


All Mixed Up

by pherryt



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Trek, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpine - Freeform, Angst, Body Swap, Ferret, Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mention of Past Abuse, Multiple POV's, Protective!Bucky, Secrets, Sorting Hat - Freeform, Wings, Wizards and Witches, deaf!Clint, low self worth, lucky - Freeform, post Hogwarts battle, restructuring hogwarts, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-01-31 09:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: After the battle at Hogwarts, when the Dark Lord was finally defeated for good, Hogwarts needed to rebuild. With a little bit of help and some new ideas, the new headmistress does just that, opening the school to a broader range of students than Hogwarts has ever seen before.
Relationships: Destiel, McKirk, Winterhawk
Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1416790
Comments: 52
Kudos: 66
Collections: Reverse Prompt Challenge





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> RELATIONSHIPS NOTE:  
This is Winterhawk Primary  
Destiel Secondary  
McKirk is a very loose third  
there is also a very vague allusion to Stony which i did NOT tag 
> 
> *About this Fic*  
Every year i write some sort of fandom mashup fic for my kid as a Christmas present. this is the 5th year in a row I've done it. so it's... pretty indulgent in some ways. so many fandoms and ships oh my god. i was like, this is either gonna work, or it's gonna be a freaking mess. I hope you like it!
> 
> P.S. Story is complete, but i'm going to post it up in parts as i use the time to work on other projects! 
> 
> OH! and, every chapter is a different POV but the POV's are limited to 6 specific people, some of whom get more POV time than the others.
> 
> p.p.s - Squares filled = 2  
No specific chapters - i'm counting the whole fic for each one, though they may not be readily apparent at the start.
> 
> Bucky Barnes Bingo - Body Swap  
My New Clint Barton Bingo - Expectation  
Reverse Prompt - Lantern/Lamp picture

While the entire Wizarding World and even some muggles suffered under the war with Voldemort, England was hit the hardest in his attempt to reconsolidate his power. In his obsession with Harry Potter and the prophecy, oddly fixated on his old Alma Mata – Hogwarts – despite the death of (his adversary) Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort left destruction in his wake – but none so great as that at Hogwarts.

In the wake of the war, Hogwarts - in particular - found it a little difficult to come back. Professor McGonagall was unanimously named headmistress – should she accept (which she did) – but a number of other teachers stepped down, leaving quite a vacuum to fill.

Still, the school needed repairs, both structural and magical, and the new Headmistress assumed she’d find enough teachers to fill the new vacancies.

This proved more difficult than she would have thought. Too many of the people she deemed qualified enough for the positions were uninterested in teaching or were too terrified of the prospect of going back to Hogwarts after the battle.

Fools, all of them, she was heard to say.

Then her star student, now graduated and working within the ministry, came to her with a proposal. A series of proposals, actually, and - despite her doubts - the headmistress saw their potential. Promptly appointing Hermione Granger as her official advisor as well as Ministry Liaison, McGonagall and Granger put their heads together in accomplishing the task.

While the castle was being rebuilt – step one of getting things back on track, which was greatly helped along by a _very_ generous benefactor - the two of them traveled outside of England to interview and recruit new teachers.

That was step two and had caused no few mutters and sidelong glances from stodgy, hidebound wizards and witches who thought McGonagall was borrowing trouble looking for help outside of the English Wizarding Community.

Just wait till they heard the about the newly proposed classes Granger had convinced McGonagall to add to the curriculum. The community would likely splinch themselves.

That was step three. Steps four and five – specifically contained within the new Hogwarts Outreach Program – encompassed a series of ideas that McGonagall was ashamed to admit she’d never given much thought to herself.

Firstly, mentors were to be sent out to every muggle child being admitted to Hogwarts, giving the child several months at least of preparation for stepping into a completely different world and – hopefully – getting them on almost equal ground as their peers. How many disasters could have been averted had that one simple thing been employed?

Of course, many wizards and witches scoffed at the idea but they had never had to deal with a bevy of first years who got themselves into the worst scrapes because they _just didn’t understand_ or had trouble making friends because they felt like outcasts.

Just because it hadn’t been done before, didn’t mean it shouldn’t be done and as soon as Granger had proposed it, McGonagall had taken it up.

Secondly, the program was to find the children who’d slipped through the cracks for one reason or another and, no matter their age, be given a chance at the schooling that was their right. At first, McGonagall had thought it unnecessary. Every child who had an ability was given the chance but Granger had fought for it, slyly pointing out that if they expanded their search outside of their countries borders, then perhaps they may fill Hogwarts halls once more.

As it turned out, in regards to most countries, McGonagall had been right, and they had been more than adequately set up for making sure that every last child with innate magic was given a magical education.

America, on the other hand…

America somehow had a surplus of children that never went to a single magic school – of which America had many (which was only right, seeing as how _large _the country was). Both Granger and McGonagall had been horrified to find out that many, many children in America had missed out on the opportunities to learn their natural born talents. Not only missed, but specifically denied because they were poor, because of their race, because of… _defects._

McGonagall might have been skeptical when she first began, but now she was determined to take them all in and even offer exchange programs for any American family who would prefer… a different learning environment after taking a tour of one or two of the ‘touted’ best wizarding schools.

Neither of them had expected the number of families that would jump at the chance. Now all that was needed was for the final teachers to be hired and the school to be finished


	2. Chapter 1 - (Dean) The Teachers Mixer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the Prologue is so short, you get two chapters to start wtih!

“Hey, did you hear? Grangers going through with the Wizard Outreach Program,” Sam said to Dean as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts. Both of them had arrived on the school grounds just last week and were taking the time to get to know the castle. Being American Wizards, they’d never had the chance to see the famous castle, having only heard tales about it.

When the Headmistress had approached them to join the Hogwarts staff, both of them had leapt at the chance.

“You mean the one that brings in exchange students?” Dean said, pausing at a landing junction. “Dammit, I think I took a wrong turn again.”

Sam snorted. “No you didn’t, you just need to wait for the staircase.”

“God, I’m _never _going to get used to that,” Dean muttered.

“Yes, you will. You love puzzles and patterns. You’ll probably know this castle better than the ghosts within a few weeks,” Sam pointed out.

“True,” Dean mused, “But only because they don’t _need _to know which hallways are one way only and which staircases will move and when. They can go right through the walls – hell, the ceiling too!”

Sam clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

Together they waited at the landing as the staircases did, indeed, move, opening up new opportunities for them, kind of like this job.

“So, what do you think of the other teachers so far?” Dean asked casually, springing forward onto the first step as soon as it clicked in place.

“I’ve only met a few just yet, but I think the headmistress found a fairly good crop of teachers,” Sam acknowledged. “I’m still not sure how she lured Gabriel here for Charms. Or if she realizes how much trouble he can cause.”

“I saw Bobby getting the grand tour this morning with that weird old guy and his cat. I think Bobby’ll like it here,” Dean said. “Who else have you met?”

“The potions teacher – Rowena MacLeod. We talked at dinner last night,” Sam said following Dean towards his classroom. “I like her. She’s pretty sassy. There was that grumpy guy, uh… McCoy? He’s going to be the healer in the Hospital Wing.”

“Oh, I think I know who you’re talking about.” Dean snorted. “Talk about bedside manners. Remind me _never _to get hurt in this place. Hey, uh, what about that other one, the quiet guy sitting next to Hagrid at dinner last night?”

Hagrid was impossible to miss, even if you’d never met him. The half giant was legendary and, it was rumored, that he’d be returning to Hogwarts this year as a _student_ rather than a teacher. It was unprecedented, but then, that was Minerva McGonagall for you.

Of course, that meant someone would need to take on his duties as groundskeeper of Hogwarts in addition to being the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Dean assumed the fellow sitting next to him at dinner was going to be Hagrid’s replacement, though they hadn’t yet been introduced.

That would happen tonight when the last of the new teachers would have had time to settle in after their arrival the night prior – at least, with their living quarters, anyway, the classrooms would take longer. Then all the teachers would meet in the Grand Hall for an official get to know each other event which would also include the famous ‘sorting’, since a number of the new teachers had never gone through the process.

Dean was highly curious to find which house he would be sorted into, almost as curious as he was about that dark-haired teacher with the blue eyes that had sat next to Hagrid.

He entered his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Sam close behind him, taking in the high vaulted ceiling, and the alcoves and window that ran along the walls. He snorted at the staircase and landing leading to an office at the front of the room. Whoever had designed the original classroom must have had a flair for the dramatic.

“You’ve got your lesson plans squared away?” Sam asked, looking around as Dean walked through the room, trailing his fingers along the dark, scarred tables. Some of them were obviously new, evidence of the horrors that had taken place here only a year ago.

“Of course I do, Sammy, what do you take me for?”

Sam shrugged, his fingers skimming over the small library of books Dean had along the wall. Sam was actually impressed. The bookcases were color coded to correspond with each different grade year at Hogwarts, and each book Dean intended to cover were shelved on their respective grade years, denoted by the numbers he’d painstakingly charmed to adhere to their spines (Dean had flat out refused to ask Gabriel, because Gabriel was as likely to pull a prank as to help).

Dean and Sam had grown up poor and had gotten a magical education by pure dumb luck, which was one of the reasons they’d been all for the plans the Hogwarts Headmistress had come up with. As soon as all had been explained and the positions accepted, the first thing Dean had suggested was that maybe the required reading shouldn’t cost the families extra, as some families just wouldn’t have the extra to spend.

As this had aligned quite well with what McGonagall and Granger were already doing, they had both readily agreed.

Dean bit his lip and looked around the room, eyes suddenly going uncertain and wide. “Sammy, what are we doing here? What am _I _doing here? I’m not teacher material! I’m gonna fuck these kids up! I’m gonna –“

“Hey, Dean, calm down,” Sam said, turning to face his brother and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Defense Against the Dark Arts is as much about the hands-on practical application of knowledge as book learning and there’s nobody better in all North America at that than you are. Whatever we can say about dad, he was good at what he did. You deserve this, Dean.”

Dean let out a breath, then another, finally nodding. “All right, okay.” He took another breath and looked around, then sighed. “I think I’m about as all set in here as I’m gonna get. If I stick around any longer I’m just going to keep panicking.”

Sam nodded. “Well, the meet and greets in a little over an hour. We could explore a little more before heading down?”

“Right, yeah, that sounds good,” Dean agreed.

* * *

The Grand Hall was, well, not _filled,_ exactly. That wouldn’t occur till the students arrived, but it was more crowded tonight than it had been the whole week Sam and Dean had been there yet. Usually the Grand Hall had the one long table on the raised section of the hall for the headmaster – or in this case, head mistress – the heads of each house and a small handful of others that Dean was blanking on, while another, longer table ran along the width of the hall in front of it for the rest of the teachers.

When the students arrived, they would fill the four long aisles of tables separated by houses, but those tables had been pushed together instead to form a giant square and tonight, _all _the teachers and various other sundry were assembling there.

They went about the table introducing each other briefly. A man named Sulu was going to be teaching Herbology alongside Professor Sprout, apparently, while a beautiful dark skinned woman – Uhura – would be teaching Latin. A man Dean vaguely recognized and who was called Garth was taking over Transfiguration, while a man named Kirk was taking over Flying so that Madame Hooch could focus on Quidditch. Several other names whizzed by Dean’s head – Scotty, Spock, Trelawny, Firenze – but it turned out the man he was most interested in was called Castiel and was, indeed, taking over for Hagrid.

After the introductions, everybody ate, taking time to get to know their neighbors. When the food was cleared away, the tables were magicked out of the way and light refreshments set off to the side so the teachers could mingle.

Sam was quickly lost in conversation with the redheaded witch, Rowena, while Dean tried to edge his way politely over to Castiel, but before he could reach the other man, a silence fell over the room and everyone started turning. Dean resisted for a second but finally sighed and turned to face the same direction – which was at the headmistress as she stood beside Witch Granger, and between them was a stool with a ratty old hat.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

This was it – they were going to get _sorted!_ He thought about everything he’d read up on and he was pretty sure he wanted to be a Gryffindor. Sam, of course, would be a Ravenclaw with all his book smarts.

In either case, this was unprecedented. The Sorting Hat Ceremony was only ever performed for students of Hogwarts, which meant only a fraction of the world’s wizards had ever gone through it. Each country had their own traditions, of course, but Dean remembered stories from his mother before she died. Stories about Hogwarts and which houses her great grandparents had been in before they had emigrated to America.

She’d always been sort of vague on the why of that and Dean had long since lost his chance to ask. He waited eagerly for McGonagall to speak, nearly bouncing on his heels.

“The House Sorting has been a longstanding Hogwarts tradition, one that I’m loathe to eradicate completely. It was never meant to be divisive, but was meant – in its essence – as a way for anxious or frightened children to feel like they belonged, and give them an easier way to make friends. It had the added bonus of picking our dormitories for us and encouraging an easy competition between the houses to foment good behavior,” she said wryly.

There was a slight chuckle through the room, but Dean felt a keen disappointment the longer she spoke. He’d been looking forward to this, and she was making it sound like the sorting had would be tossed to the wayside. But that couldn’t be, the hat was _right there._

“It has become clear to many of us in retrospect that over the years, the houses _did _divide us. When we should have stood strong, many children and even adult wizards judged where they should not have.” She paused. “Even I have been guilty of that.”

“The qualities of all four houses reside in each and every one of us to one degree or another,” the other woman – Granger - spoke then. “To decide that a child who has not yet the experiences behind them to become what they will is somewhat shortsighted. People change, they grow – especially children. After much discussion – which included the Sorting Hat itself – we have come up with a slightly different solution.”

“Any child or adult who wishes to be resorted may request it at any time – within reason, of course - otherwise, a sorting will occur at the start of every school year for every student unless they decline. For many, this may not change a thing, but for some… it could make all the difference in the world.”

Protest broke among Dean’s fellow teachers. Most were silent, but unless he missed his guess, the silent ones were like him and Sam, with no invested interest in a Hogwarts House other than curiosity. There were no familial traditions to buck for them, but for others who came and went through the same school system, to see it changing before their very eyes…. It must be difficult.

“But Headmistress! That’ll make the first day ceremonies even _longer_.”

That was a valid point, Dean had to admit.

McGonagall’s eyes flashed. “Never again shall I allow Hogwarts to become a battleground.”

The conviction in her voice rolled through the hall, cutting through the whispers. There were nods all around, a few firm “_here here’s_” echoing through the large room.

“It is our duty to protect the children in our charge, not just teach them. We are raising them as much as their families are, and we should take that responsibility seriously. To this end, as you know, we have hired extra staff – not only to fill our vacancies and to teach the new classes – but to help with the children. The more eyes, the better,” she said.

McGonagall drew up straighter than she already was, her hands clasped behind her back. “We will be better able to guide them if there are more of us to do so. Better able to protect them if there are more of us keeping watch. Because _no_ family should send their child to _school_ with the worry that they might not come home again. So, my fellow Wizards and Witches, we _will _find ways to make this work. I do accept suggestions,” she conceded, “but we _will_ be doing it.”

There were murmurs of quiet agreement to those words, no more protests about the feasibility of her plan, and after a few more moments of weighted silence, she gave a nod and stepped away from the stool.

“Now we shall begin the sorting.”


	3. Chapter 2 – (Bucky) Magical Transportation Methods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve are excited to be on their way to the famous Hogwarts, and still can't quite believe they're getting this chance...
> 
> Bucky doesn't think the kid sitting with them can believe it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a bonus chapter - after this, there is a regular schedule planned (2 days of nothing and on the third day, a chapter goes up, rinse and repeat until christmas eve, where the last bits will go up on christmas eve and christmas day!)
> 
> That is my deadline for myself and i need the time to work on all the other projects that won't end!

Bucky and Steve maneuvered through the crowd in Penn Station, Bucky grumbling the whole way as they lugged their trunks along with them.

“I don’t understand why it has to be Penn Station,” Bucky complained. “There are plenty of perfectly good train stations in Brooklyn we coulda used.”

“It’s a main hub, Buck,” Steve pointed out. “And it’ll make it easier for the school reps if most of us can depart from the same stations, so they can make sure nobody got missed.”

“We _should _be using a portkey. Trains can’t even cross the water,” Bucky said back.

“But it’s a _magic _train,” Steve said, excitement bubbling up into a grin.

“Say that a little _louder_ pal,” Bucky grumbled, jerking his trunk out of the way of a pedestrian who hadn’t even looked up from her phone. Penn Station was way too crowded for Bucky’s liking, but he found that his own excitement about going overseas to another country and to attending Hogwarts – of all places – was enough to drown out most of his apprehension.

“Do you think they still do the Sorting Ceremony?” Steve asked, struggling with his own trunk. The two of them had been dropped off by taxi – and boy, _that _would have been an expensive ride except that their Stark Scholarship had included transportation too – but there’d been no one to spare to help them with their things. Alpine was riding his shoulders and Steve’s owl was hanging out in his cage atop his trunk.

“Stop, I’m gonna find us a luggage cart,” Bucky said, dropping his trunk where he stood. He wasn’t making Stevie drag his all over goddamned creation when he could hardly breathe some days.

Steve’s eyes widened. “In Penn Station? You think we’ll get that lucky?”

Bucky didn’t answer, spotting an elusive cart and sprinting for it before someone else could snatch it up. He was back by Steve’s side in record time, sending him a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes. They loaded it up with all their things and moved through the station much quicker than before, heading for the lower concourse and on the lookout for anybody else… out of the ordinary.

A flock of kids of all ages, both unattended and not, were converging on the Shake Shack and streaming past it towards the LIRR. Bucky even recognized a handful of them. He looked at Stevie and Stevie glanced back, grinning, their pace picking up.

Soon enough, they’d found the barrier and gone through it and saw several lines queuing up in front of a handful of Wizards and Witches. There was no train in sight and Bucky snorted when he saw kids disappearing from the line.

“Told you. Portkeys,” he said, turning to Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, know it all,” Steve grumbled, but he was smiling when he knocked into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve!” A voice shouted. Steve perked up and Sam Wilson was making his way through the crowd, beaming at them. “Can you believe it? Hogwarts! Hey Buck,” he said, nodding.

“Sam,” Bucky said, nodding back. Sam got into line beside them and the three of them made their way forward quickly, despite the crowd. There were way more students here than Bucky had expected. Just how many kids was Hogwarts taking in from other places anyhow? How big _was _Hogwarts?

Before they could do much more than say hello, they were standing in front of a witch with a checklist. She checked off their names and another boy’s, then handed them a hubcap. “Grab hold, don’t let go and check in on the other side.”

The four of them grabbed the hubcap, the witch tapped it with her wand and everything shifted and whirled around Bucky faster than he could think. They landed on stone on the other side, noise assaulting his ears as they stumbled to keep their feet.

And _there _was the train, all old fashioned and bright, fire engine red and if he’d thought there were a lot of kids at Penn Station, that was nothing for the riot of families scurrying alongside the train and loading their things on it, getting tearful farewells and waving enthusiastically at fellow students. With a slightly guilty thought, Bucky realized they’d brought along the Penn Station luggage cart and it probably wouldn’t be going back.

Oops.

Better not mention it to Stevie. He’d probably lecture Bucky about stealing. Not like they hadn’t had to do that more than once in their lives just to have something to eat. Two single mom’s raising kids in Brooklyn – it was tough. But apparently, there was stealing and then there was _stealing_, and Bucky hadn’t yet figured out the difference, despite having known Steve since before they’d switched from public schools to wizard schools.

He just hoped Hogwarts was a better school than the last. But a clean start may just be what they needed. Bucky didn’t realize he was rubbing at his arm until Steve knocked into him again and raised his eyebrow, eyes flicking down then up.

“You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. He didn’t like to think about that ‘accident’ in his first year, causing him to skip two years while he recovered and having to start all over again when Steve started. Honestly, that had been better, because then he’d had a friend who could watch his back and vice versa. “C’mon, let’s check in so we can get on board before they run out of seats.”

He pushed on ahead, with the cart and Steve and Sam scrambled to follow, the fourth boy trailing along behind them, looking a little bit lost. They found a check person and were immediately directed to where to bring their trunks. They got their things stowed away and headed inside. They had to go halfway down the train to find an empty compartment. When they crowded inside, the other boy from Penn Station paused outside their compartment and fiddled with his worn jacket.

“Um… can I join you?”

Steve beamed at him. “Of course you can. Plenty of room. I’m Steve, that’s Sam and this is Bucky.”

“’m Clint,” the boy said. He hesitated a little bit longer, then skittered inside, taking the empty seat against the door, the same bench as Bucky’s, and pressed himself into the corner. Bucky blinked at the behavior and shared a look with Steve.

“What year are you heading into Clint?” Steve asked. “Bucky and I are third years, Sam’s in fourth.”

Clint hunched down into his jacket and mumbled.

Steve frowned and leaned closer. “What was that?”

“First year.”

The compartment dropped into stunned silence and Clint – who _had _to be about Bucky’s age – hunched down further. Bucky took a closer look at his appearance and noted how threadbare the clothes were, rather like his and Stevie’s, actually. And lord knew, him and Steve almost hadn’t gotten in because their families had nothing to contribute.

American Wizarding schools cost _money _to go to. An actual tuition. And their mothers had to scrimp and save to send their sons off to learn magic, their god given – or whatever was out there – right.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. “I’m not in the right year either. I had to stop for two years right after I started – “ Bucky rubbed at his arm again, he couldn’t help it, when he thought about _that._ “- and Stevie was too sick to start on time, so he’s behind too. Look, if anyone causes you problems, you tell us.”

“Yeah, hey, we’re here on the Stark Scholarship. I’m betting you are too, right?” Steve said.

Clint nodded warily, uncurling a little. Knowing they were on the same page as him seemed to relax the other boy. Bucky tried to give him a look over without scaring him off, noting how skinny he was, but tall despite how he was holding himself. He had unruly blonde hair hanging in his face and covering his ears and a Band-Aid on his nose. It was really too warm out for a jacket today, even a threadbare one, but he kept it close, huddling in it. He eyed them warily, but hopefully, a tentative smile gracing his face as Steve talked, or bickered with Sam.

The smile lit up his eyes and Bucky was doomed.

He knew it from that second that he was now going to be keeping an eye on _two_ disaster blondes as best as he could. Steve, at least, was the same year as him, but Clint… unless they were in the same house, that might be a bit more difficult.

Then again, the recruiter who’d talked to his mom had mentioned something about special classes for those who were behind. But who knew how that might be broken up?

“What house do you think you’ll be in Sam?” Steve asked.

Sam frowned, his eyes flick up with a low hum before he opened his mouth. Bucky didn’t let him get that far, unable to keep from ribbing at Sam.

“Better not be the same one as me,” Bucky said with a grin.

“Oh, shut up, Barnes,” Sam snapped back with his own grin.

Clint’s eyes were wide, bouncing between Bucky and Sam. Bucky stilled as he noticed Clint’s breathing picking up and his body pulling a little further into the corner, but before he could ask anything, Steve leaned across the way conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry, they’re like this all the time. They pretend to hate each other, but they’re really good friends.”

“We are _not!” _Sam and Bucky say in unison. For Bucky it was reflex, he couldn’t even stop himself and he inwardly flinched, because it was obvious the kid was getting upset about their fighting and Bucky hadn’t wanted to make Clint feel worse than he already was. Thankfully, Steve’s words and the obvious familiarity of it all seemed to reach Clint, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice – with relief - that the new tension bled away from him after Steve reassured him.

Bucky had a bad feeling he wouldn’t like the answer to why Clint was wary of strangers and strife of any sort.

Fuck. He was doubly doomed now, wasn’t he? There was something about this kid that made Bucky want to wrap him up in a thick, warm blanket, with nice hot drinks and protect him from the world, make him feel _safe_, something Bucky was starting to doubt the kid ever felt.

He didn’t even _know _the kid.

But he’d like to.

Steve caught his eye and gave him a little nod. Steve was usually a good judge of character – Bucky often didn’t trust his own, not after that disaster his first year – and he relaxed when Steve gave his seal of approval. Whatever Bucky was seeing, Steve had seen it too.

Clint needed protection and safety and they’d give it.


	4. Chapter 3 - (Clint) Too Good to Be True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's expectations have always been the bad kind, cause thats how things seem to go. So at this point, he's just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. He's ages too late to be starting magic schooling, but here he is, somehow, not only doing it, but getting a few bonuses along the way...

Clint couldn’t believe his luck.

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to yank away this chance. First when the man had come to the farm and told his dad Clint would be going to Hogwarts. Surely that had been a cruel joke? Then when the day approached, Clint hadn’t expected anyone to show up at all. But a second man had, and he’d been packed on a train bound for New York before he could pinch himself.

Then he’d been absolutely certain the train would meet with an accident or take a wrong turn (Clint knew trains couldn’t get lost, but he was a Barton. If there was a way, it would happen) and he’d never make it to the first stop in the journey.

Instead, the train arrived in New York safely and Clint had spent the rest of that summer in New York, getting fitted for robes and purchasing his school supplies. Finding his wand had been a nerve wracking event, but eventually he had settled on a Yew wand with a core containing the tailfeather of a Thunderbird…

Whatever that was.

He hadn’t allowed to start practicing right away, however, which was disappointing.

“That’s what the school is for,” his designated mentor said. “I’m only here to give you an introduction to magic and the wizarding world in general. Since you didn’t grow up in that world you’ll be at a disadvantage.”

Clint had shrugged; he was always at a disadvantage, why should now be any different?

Still, the mentor went over some things in a vague, disinterested manner and Clint maybe caught about a quarter of it. The anticipation made his stomach twist too much to pay enough attention, but at last the day drew near. He was brought back to the station he’d first arrived in, guided to a lower level and set loose.

He’d found his way, easily enough, despite the place being more crowded than anyplace he’d ever seen in his life. The noise was immense and overwhelming to his poor ears.

Which, yeah, that was another thing he was waiting for to go wrong. He’d been hard of hearing for years, ever since his dad….

Well, years, anyway.

He’d gotten used to getting by on substandard hearing – it wasn’t ideal, but doable - but then, that first man had given him something, a pair of enchanted talismans, and every dull sound had popped into focus. It’d been amazing and too much all at once. He wore it behind his ears, just like the hearing aids he’d seen on a commercial once but his dad had refused to get for him, claiming it was a waste of money they didn’t have.

He hadn’t wanted to take it off that first day, but after the novelty had died down, Clint had realized that sometimes he had to. Apparently, magic couldn’t cure everything and sometimes his ears and his brain needed a rest from the constant noise. The man – whose name he’d never caught – tried to explain it but Clint had been too in awe of _hearing_ to actually _listen_.

Barney had rolled his eyes at that and shook his head and Clint had felt really fucking dumb.

But he couldn’t be _too _dumb, right? Cause here he was, on the _actual_ train to Hogwarts, even though he was well past the age of starting school.

He was sure the boys he’d followed onto the train would have made fun of him for that, but they hadn’t. They’d been friendly.

Almost too friendly, in Clint’s experience, but he wanted to have a friend so damn much. Dare he hope that these boys could be his friends?

The train rumbled on, smooth and quick, the landscape passing by quicker than his ride from Iowa to New York had. Of course, the difference was there were no stops between loading and Hogwarts. He observed the boys as quietly and covertly as he could. They shared their snacks when the trolley came by and he gaped when they showed him the chocolate frogs.

None of them blinked an eye when he ate all the Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, even the nasty ones, without so much as a grimace. In fact, only Sam made mention of not liking a flavor. Steve and Bucky had eaten all of theirs without complaint and then the ones Sam wouldn’t touch.

Clint swallowed. Maybe he wasn’t the only one here who’d ever gone to bed hungry?

Things _did _seem to be looking up and hope was blooming cautiously in Clint’s chest.

And then the train slowed and the landscape stopped being this dizzying thing and panic seized Clint once more. What if they’d made a mistake? What if they got off the train and there was a man there who told him he had to turn around and go home? What if the Sorting Hat rejected him?

With sweaty palms and a dry mouth, he followed Steve, Sam and Bucky out of the compartment. Bucky paused and shot him a small smile.

“Are you as nervous as I am?” Bucky asked. The white cat sleeping on his shoulders yawned and bumped Bucky’s chin and he reached up and scratched her head, her eyes closing on a purr.

Clint blinked at him, scrambling to his feet. “You’re nervous? Why would _you _be nervous?”

Bucky chuckled, but the sound was a little off and Clint wondered if his magic ears were malfunctioning already. _I knew it was too good to be true,_ he thought.

“I haven’t had the best school experiences,” Bucky admitted after a slight hesitation. His hand dropped and clutched his arm, rubbing it up and down, Clint only noticing then that Bucky was wearing gloves. “But having friends helps with that immensely.”

Bucky held out his hand and Clint stared at it uncomprehendingly. It took him a long moment to realize Bucky was serious. Swallowing hard, Clint reached for his hand and Bucky smiled, curling his fingers around Clint’s, holding him firmly but not painfully. He gave a light tug and Clint stumbled forward. He followed Bucky in a daze and before he knew it, they’d left the train.

Outside was a lake with a dock and a gazillion little rowboats with lanterns. Kids were climbing into the boats and then the boats were pushing off on their own and making their way across the water. Sam and Steve waved at Bucky and Clint from another boat but before they could reach it, another boy joined them. The boat launched almost immediately, leaving Bucky and Clint to look for another.

They settled into the seat, a girl with red hair joining them. Three seemed to be the limit, because theirs started moving away from the dock almost as soon as she was settled into place.

The three of them stared ahead, watching the twinkling reflections of all the boat lanterns on the water. Clint could barely breath with how unreal everything felt. And then they came around and the castle was standing out above them, huge and immense and like every fantasy story Clint had ever heard of. He stared up at it, gaping.

A hand squeezed his gently and he startled, having forgotten that Bucky was holding his hand. He looked over and Bucky was grinning at him before looking back at the castle, awe also washing over his face.

The night was strangely muffled and hushed and for a few moments, Clint thought his new magic ears had broken down completely, or that they’d fallen out somewhere between the train and the lake, but then the boats were landing and Bucky was standing, pulling Clint up at the same time – oh, they were still holding hands. Clint blushed furiously and hoped nobody could see it in this light.

Bucky’s head turned to Clint, grinning.

“Ready or not, here we are,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, guess so,” Clint agreed, just staring back.

A snort behind them made Clint turn away from Bucky. He let go of Bucky’s hand and scrambled out of the boat, tripping and nearly plunging into the lake.

Someone caught him with a booming voice that made Clint flinch instinctively, jerking back and colliding with a solid warmth.

“Whoa! Easy, my friend.” The booming voice turned out to belong to a tall, long haired blonde with a wide grin. “We would not want you to fall into the lake. That would make a most uncomfortable dinner, I am sure, having to sit in the Grand Hall with wet robes.”

“Uh…” Clint said. “Um… thank you?”

“You are quite welcome. I am Thor,” Thor said, sticking out his hand.

Clint shifted, eyeing Thor’s hand warily, and the warmth behind him shifted too. Clint squeaked and jerked away from Bucky, the redhead from their boat watching them all closely. Clint’s heart pounded.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed out. “Sorry.”

Bucky stared at him, his hand making an aborted move towards Clint, stopping when Clint flinched. His tone was gentle, way too gentle and Clint wanted to cry from it. “It’s okay, Clint.”

Clint grimaced, wrung his hands together under his too long robes and nodded.

“Bucky!” Steve called. Clint sighed as the attention left him and centered on Steve and Sam and the other boy that had been in their boat. “This is Tony. Tony, that’s Bucky and Clint.”

“And I am Thor,” Thor said with that same wide grin.

“Hi, I’m Steve and that’s Sam,” Steve said, then looked over to the redhead.

“Oh, I’m Natasha,” she said quietly. “And I think we’re going to be late.”

Thor clapped his hands together so loudly Clint’s hearbeat stuttered, though he at least managed _not _to flinch this time. “Oh, that is most unwelcome news! We do not want to be late. Come, my new friends!” He gestured enthusiastically up the hill where other kids were currently trudging up towards the castle in excited groups, and finally their own strange crew started moving.

Clint’s nerves pressed in on him once more with every step and his feet dragged till he fell behind the little group. He still wasn’t sure what had just happened there. Had he made friends? Would they still want to _be _his friends after they got to know what sort of disaster and a disappointment he was?

He didn’t notice the concerned and uncertain look Bucky kept shooting at him, or the thoughtful one Natasha was sending his way. But he did notice when they both dropped back to walk with him, one on either side.

Clint had the unhelpful thought that it was a little like being led to an execution but… part of him was relieved that he wasn’t alone. They walked together quietly, the four in front of them doing all the boisterous talking, and it was strangely comfortable.

Maybe things _were _looking up?

Maybe. He’d reserve judgement till after the Sorting. And perhaps the first week. If he could make it through the first week without showing how _stupid _he was or setting something on fire, then maybe… maybe things _were_.

Cautious hope entered, and his footsteps picked up, buoyed by the thought and the silent support on either side of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Clints wand - 
> 
> first, i decided upon the wood by asking google what bows were commonly made of - YEW popped up
> 
> then i asked google if YEW had any symbology (I've italicized the parts that struck me for this iteration of Clint):  
"Appropriately, the yew tree is symbolic of immortality and everlasting life,_ rebirth, changes and regeneration after difficult times, and protection_ – the yew is, after all, quite massive. The yew tree is also very strong, making it very useful for making bows, spears, and other items.
> 
> there's that reference to yew's being used for bows again (hahah Yew's used... )  
of course, what do i use for a CORE? For this i turned to an official listing of all known used cores and what THEY meant...  
and eventually came back with this: 
> 
> Thunderbird Tail Feather Core: Powerful, but difficult to master, particularly prized by Transfigurers. Can sense danger and cast curses on their own.


	5. Chapter 4 (Cas) – The Magic Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel watches the second wave of students getting sorted into their houses and finds a few in particular he'd like to keep an eye on...

Castiel watched the students filing in eagerly. This was the second installment of students since the teachers had settled in. Returning Hogwarts students had arrived first, had their resorting and settled in to their new houses if they’d changed at all – and some of them had.

It had caused a little bit of friction at first, returning students uncertain how that changed things and loathe to give up the familiarity of what had been, but there had always been inter-House friendships, so Miss Granger had explained, and eventually, the students had settled down.

Other students had embraced it wholeheartedly, seeing the entire thing as an adventure.

This group was filled with the transfers – all students who were new to Hogwarts but not new to magic. Except a very small handful who were older than the usual first years who had never had a chance to attend the school. It had been pointed out that those particular students would feel out of place and possibly ostracized if they came in with the usual first years.

Alternative classes had also been set up with that age gap in mind, so that the students could at least still remain with some of their peers.

The last group, the brand new first years, would come in the day after. In future years, there would likely not be such an influx of transfers so the sorting ceremonies would settle down to two instead of the current three, but it was the best compromise everyone could think of to reduce the sheer amount of time it would take to get through the whole school.

It was all well thought out, Castiel thought. He only hoped it worked as well in practice as it did in theory.

Castiel, himself, had been sorted into Gryffindor which he thought oddly appropriate. Even though the mascot was a lion, he never could help but think of the Griffin of Muggle tales whenever he heard the House name, and he’d always felt a particular affinity to any winged creatures.

His own wings rustled frustratedly at their constraints, hidden from view, trapped beneath his skin. Wizarding views on partial humans or sentient non-human life meant that their reveal would cause him more problems than they were worth, even if Hogwarts – by precedent (Firenze, Hagrid and Lupin all sprang immediately to mind) – was more accepting.

It kept Castiel cautious, and usually isolated as well, but when the chance came to teach at Hogwarts, how could he say no?

The new crop of students from other countries shifted about nervously, some in excitement, others in something more approaching dread then anything else, and McGonagall went through her speech as they waited, the hat sitting on the same stool as it had both times Castiel had seen it previously. One by one, the children moved forward. Castiel paid close attention to each student, noting how they acted with each other, then how apprehensive they were (_if _they were) when their names were called.

He would have each one of them as a student at some point during his days, and the better he knew them, the better equipped he would be for teaching them.

However, a particular few _did_ catch his eye as they were called up.

Barnes, James moved forward with a scowl on his face, his body held tightly, the scowl softening as he looked back at the crowd of kids. Castiel couldn’t see _exactly_ who he was looking at, but there was clear concern in his gaze when it turned upon a knot of maybe 6 others.

One dark skinned boy, 2 blonde boys with wildly different body types, another boy – brunette - and a redheaded girl, all stood together in a group around a third, _very_ anxious looking blonde boy who was looking like he was about five seconds from bolting altogether.

Ah, it was probably him that Barnes was so concerned about.

Regardless, they all seemed to be about the same age year, so it made sense they would gravitate towards each other, though it was possible they knew each other previously.

Barnes sat on the stool and pulled the hat over his head. It was silent a good, long second before shouting out Ravenclaw. The table erupted in the usual cheers as a new member was announced and he walked over to it, smiled at his new fellows, though his eyes remained glued to his friends.

The scared kid went next – Barton, Clinton – and it took calling his name twice before he jerked into motion and stumbled forward after getting an encouraging pat from another of the group. Barton sat and put the hat on with shaking hands, but unlike with Barnes, the hat didn’t wait long before announcing his house – Hufflepuff.

He sat, stunned before he got up and headed for the House table, turned around to return the hat – his face turning bright red with embarrassment to a few good-natured laughs which only caused his face to burn brighter – before tripping over towards Hufflepuff. Castiel noted that Barton sat on the side of the Hufflepuff table that would put him near Barnes, and also noted the reassuring smile Barnes sent Barton’s way.

Barnes seemed a protective type. It was too bad the kids hadn’t been sorted into the same house, but with as big a group as they seemed to be part of, hopefully at least one other would be.

A few other names came and went, and then Grant, Steven was called. The small, skinny kid strode confidently and excitedly toward the stool and eagerly put the hat on. It barely touched his head before it shouted out Gryffindor. Disappointment crawled over Barnes’s face and Barton deflated slightly, though his table mates were trying to engage him.

It was a long time before another of the little group’s names was called, and Castiel was relieved to hear Odinson, Thor, sorted into Hufflepuff as well. Odinson, Loki – who hadn’t been standing near the other children and had a sneer on his face that Castiel was sure hid his own insecurities – was sorted into Slytherin. Rominov, Natasha was a mystery, but was sorted into the same house, then Stark, Anthony – that name sounded familiar, Castiel thought – was sorted into Ravenclaw. A few more names were called before they came to the last boy - both of the group, and of the kids waiting to be sorted.

Wilson, Samuel was sorted into Gryffindor, whereupon Grant reacted more enthusiastically then the rest of his new found table mates and Wilson shot a smug little smile towards Barnes who promptly flipped him off. Castiel was worried for a brief instant before he saw the twitch of a smile on the kids face. Ah…one of _those _friendships then.

As the children settled in and the food appeared, the tables erupted into noise, laughter and movement. Castiel’s eye was drawn further down the lower teachers table to where the Winchester brothers sat. The students weren’t all that his attention had focused on. One teacher in particular had seemed pretty captivating in their brief moments of interaction and Castiel found himself hoping for more chances to talk with Dean Winchester.

The brothers were as close as they’d been the night of their own sorting, though they had been separated as well – Sam to Ravenclaw and Dean to Hufflepuff. A few folks had been surprised that their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be a Hufflepuff, but it had only proved McGonagall and Granger’s point that each person held within them the seeds of each House.

At times, one aspect of a person’s personality might be stronger than another, and could therefore change which House they were in and that a persons House had no real bearing on who they were. Granger had been Gryffindor before her resorting, had expected to be Ravenclaw by many due to her smarts, but she’d landed in Slytherin herself – another shock to the teachers who had been staples at Hogwarts before Castiel and the others had come in.

All in all, the shakeup would do the wizards and witches of England Hogwarts good. They needed to challenge the old ways of thinking.

Of course, as his feathers rippled, Castiel could admit he had a personal stake in that point of view.

The evening progressed and Castiel found himself pulled into a conversation with the new professor of healing – Doctor McCoy. Doctor was a muggle word, yet strangely, McCoy insisted that they use the title.

“If it was good enough for my grandpappy, it’s good enough for me,” he remarked. “The Muggle way of healing may have its drawbacks, I’ll admit, but it’s the same guiding principle and you gotta admire their ingenuity despite their lack of magical talent.”

“Hmm…” Castiel agreed with a nod, pausing to sip his drink, listening to McCoy rant about various practices Wizards held to be superior but were actually fraught with pitfalls of their own.

“And don’t get me started on apparition!” McCoy grumbled “Tearing apart my body _willingly_ to relocate from one place to reassemble it in another – the very _idea! _Why, my own mother’s cousins’ husband splinched himself in no less than 5 places and it took an entire team of Wizards to put him back together again! And if that weren’t bad enough – _side along apparition_?” The doctor scoffed. “Collateral damage, more like. A broom is good enough for me.”

“Doctor, are you saying you would rather trust your life to the charms made by the dozen in some shop than rely upon your own skill?” The teacher of a new class (Logic and Reasoning), Professor Spock, turned to ask the doctor.

McCoy spluttered over his meal and Castiel hid his smile. He had to confess, even if only to himself, that he had wondered the same thing.

Professor Spock and Doctor McCoy were soon embroiled in their own little conversation while another teacher – Kirk – looked on with bemusement. Since they were now fully occupied by each other, Castiel turned to get to know his teacher on the other side, still watching the students get to know one another. One more night of this and soon classes would start.

He was looking forward to it.


	6. Chapter 5 (Doctor McCoy) - Repeat Customers...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor McCoy _ knew_ flying lessons were just asking for it... and he's not surprised at all to see who hit the ground first. Honestly, _some_ people came by the medical wing often enough he should just reserve beds for them.

Leonard McCoy’s first visit to the Medical Wing (his predecessor had called it the Healing Wing, and some of the other Americans had referred to it as a Hospital wing, but he preferred this word and was looking to make his own stamp upon the place) after settling in was interrupted before he’d even managed to finish unpacking his spell components and if _that _wasn’t a sign of the year to come, he wasn’t sure what was.

By the time the third crop of students had filtered into Hogwarts, Leonard had already treated 7 of his fellow teachers (and really, they should have _known _better! How could these people possibly _hope _to be role models for impressionable young minds if they couldn’t act responsibly themselves?), a surly groundskeeper, 11 of the returning students, 8 of the transfer students and already had a bed set aside for his most frequent customers: Jim Kirk, the Flying Instructor and backup Quidditch Coach with an infectiously good attitude and all too bright smirk, and Clinton Barton, one of the new transfer students who was - in any way Leonard looked at him – a total contradiction in terms.

(And the fact that they were both blondes hadn’t been missed by Leonard’s keen observation.)

Clint was incredibly smart but oblivious and lacking of commons sense. He was at once both clumsy _and _graceful. How he’d pulled off that stunt when the stairs had shifted under his feet without the use of magic, Leonard would never know, but his heart had been in his goddamned throat, certain he was about to face his first student fatality. And while old enough to be a returning student several times over he was, somehow, only a first year. Clint put on a brave face, but Leonard could see behind the mask, the fear and wariness he held of everyone around him – especially adults, and Leonard would sure like to get his hands on the monster responsible for that – and he treated Clint with his own type of gruff care.

Not that Leonard didn’t care about _all _of his patients, but some definitely required a more delicate handling than others.

All in all, Leonard was dreading the first day of Flying Lessons. Potions had already provided a good half of his patients before the first day was up. Transfiguration had caused a fair few to show up after the first week, when they inevitably tried to use spells on each other that were never meant to be used on another human being. He never had to worry about students requiring his help after a single divination lesson. Nor, for that matter, the history class, or any of the new ones like Spocks Logic class or Uhura’s Latin class.

Defense Against the Dark Arts would provide them soon enough once they got past the book learning, he was sure, but _flying?_

_Flying _was where disaster was waiting to strike, he was absolutely convinced, and nothing Jim said could alleviate Leonard’s conviction on the matter.

Leonard wasn’t wrong.

Strangely, though he _was _right, it hadn’t been for the reasons he’d expected. Not that_ that_ made it any better. No, instead of inexperienced students crashing to the earth, into each other or into the side of the castle (or into the grasp of the Whomping Willow - which, why? Why have something _that _dangerous on _school grounds???_) it had been Jim that was carried into his domain between two of the bigger students, the rest of the class hovering behind them.

Because of course, the first casualty of Flying class had been none other than the instructor himself. Who didn’t even seem fazed by the ordeal even as Leonard patched him up and one of the students tried to explain what, exactly, had happened.

Despite all his dire predictions, Leonard had to grudgingly admit that it hadn’t been Jim’s fault in the slightest, and that it was_ only_ Jim who had been hurt was nothing short of a miracle.

That didn’t mean Leonard wasn’t going to take a grim satisfaction in patching him back up, perhaps a little less than gently.

“Ow, take it easy there, Bones,” Jim griped as Leonard manhandled him into the bed.

“Will you stop with that ridiculous nickname?” Leonard asked with a sigh.

Jim flashed him that damn smile and Leonard felt his insides flip. Dammit. He scowled at Jim for good measure, then flicked his wand over a book sized board. Lines appeared and shifted as Leonard ran it over Jim’s body. Clint, who was hovering nearby having been one of the boys who had helped Jim up to the Medical Wing, leaned closer.

“It’s like an X-Ray machine,” he said.

“What is an X-Ray machine?” Thor asked.

“It’s what Muggle doctors use to see the inside of their patients. It’s science though, not magic,” Clint explained.

“Fascinating! Muggles are ingenious,” Thor boomed. Leonard looked up at the two boys and they quieted down. He turned back to Jim, but Thor kept going, much softer now. “Have you experienced this X-Ray machine yourself?”

“Uh… a few times,” Clint said, his tone suddenly wary. Leonard’s scowl deepened as he listened to the boys talking, though he continued to watch the picture shift and change, giving him a clearer idea of what he was dealing with. From the number of times Clint was in the Medical Wing, Leonard probably _shouldn’t _be surprised the boy had had to seek medical attention previously. Nor was it any of his business.

At all. And certainly not right at this moment when _Jim _was his patient, not _Clint._

“Some Skelegrow for the broken bones, a charm against the diseases inherent from Thestral bites and… you’ve got a concussion, of course,” Leonard sighed, putting down the board. The board went blank.

“Thestrals have hard heads,” Jim said, shrugging. Then cursed as the shrug aggravated the broken collarbone.

“Do me a favor and sit still,” Leonard snapped.

“Don’t be mad at Professor Kirk, Doctor McCoy,” Clint said, his words tumbling over each other. He was wringing his hands like he expected someone to yell at _him _any second. And no, Leonard wasn’t going to get into that… right now, anyway. “It was my fault. I’ve never been on a broom before and it was just so…” A look of bliss took over his face and it made him look like the youth his years made him out to be and Leonard cursed whatever had made Clint so wary and cautious of others. Clint blew out a breath. “Well, anyway, my broom got away from me and I spooked the herd before I even knew it. Professor Kirk got me to safety.”

Leonard pulled a bottle down from a nearby shelf, poured out a measured amount and brought it to Jim to drink. “What I want to know is why a herd of dangerous creatures was left to roam so close to the school?”

“They aren’t dangerous,” another booming voice said, this one just entering the door, students scattering out of his way. Leonard looked up to see Hagrid, the previous groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher looming in the doorway. There was a figure behind him that Leonard couldn’t see, but then Hagrid jolted and his mulish look changed to one of sheepish apology as he moved away from the door.

His replacement teacher – now that Hagrid was a student – walked in. Dammit, this was a place of healing, not a gossiping charm circle.

“My apologies. The Thestrals were previously under Hagrid’s care and they aren’t adjusting too well to the switch. The change has made them a bit skittish and I’ve been working to gain their trust. However, they keep trying to get into the castle to find Hagrid in the meantime and it’s been all we can do to keep them as far back as they were today,” Castiel said evenly.

“See? Not my fault!” Jim said with a grin. “And not Clint’s either.”

“Actually, professor,” Castiel turned to Jim. “I did try to send you a warning of the herds proximity before you started this morning’s lesson.”

Jim’s face fell.

Leonard took advantage of his distraction to administer the charms and place a restriction spell on the bed so Jim couldn’t get up and walk away. It was something he’d had to start employing 3 days ago, when he found that several people – Jim, Clint and Dean being his worst offenders – tended to wander away if they were left unattended for longer than a minute.

Students he expected that sort of behavior from, but his fellow teachers?

He was surrounded by children, wasn’t he? (And he wasn’t actually talking about the students who were, of course, all children except for Hagrid).

Leonard ignored the bickering between Jim, Hagrid and Castiel in favor of getting Jim squared away and then shooing everyone out. Clint hovered by Jim’s bed, his hands still wringing together in a white knuckled grip.

“I’m sorry, Professor Kirk,” he said, his voice was almost a whisper. Leonard frowned because hadn’t it already been established that it was juts a series of unfortunate events?

“Hey, it’s okay, Mr. Barton. These things happen, and it wasn’t your fault,” Jim said gently. Leonard melted at the tone, at the care in his voice even though Leonard knew Jim was still in pain – it wasn’t the worst injury he’d ever seen by far, but head injuries made some of Leonard’s pain reliving potions risky to use – or just plain ineffective – and the one he’d been forced to use took some time to kick in.

“But if I’d been better at – “

“Mr. Barton, you’re at school to _learn. _If I expected you or any of my other students to be perfect on their first try, then I’d be a horrible teacher,” Jim said.

Leonard paused and stared at the two of them, the fluttering he’d felt earlier returning tenfold. Dammit. He was _not _developing a crush on the flying instructor, no matter how handsome, charming and compassionate he was.

It wasn’t happening.

Clint stared at Jim stunned, like his words were a revelation. There was a commotion at the door and a few of the kids Leonard had seen congregating together more often than most were waiting at the door, gesturing towards Clint and Thor, even though the rest of the crowd had already dispersed.

The two of them left, Thor gently guiding Clint forward, the group closing ranks around each other, Clint in the center like they’d all adopted him with the urge to protect him, leaving Leonard alone with Jim.

Who he was _absolutely _getting a crush on.

Dammit.


	7. Chapter 6 – (Bucky)  Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets his dorm mate, starts his classes and ponders the question of Clint Barton...

Hogwarts wasn’t anything Bucky had been expecting. It was… it was better, even. There were no cliques to close ranks against him, though the other students definitely formed their own little circles of friends. It wasn’t _mean_ though.

Not that there weren’t assholes, even in Hogwarts, but they seemed further and farther between for some reason. Bucky wasn’t sure why, but he’d take it. He’d settled quickly into his dormitory in Ravenclaw’s tower, the enjoyment of a puzzle to enter his dormitory was a unique challenge that distracted him a little from not having Steve (or Sam) in the same house.

At least they all got to see each other every day. The only regulated meal time was dinner, the teachers not seeming to care if the houses mixed at other times. Classes were shared with other houses – he had Potions and Latin with Slytherin, Herbology and History of Magic with Hufflepuff, Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration with Gryffindor, etc, etc.

Strangely, he never saw Clint in any of those classes, but then he remembered the train.

Clint had catch up he needed to do. They might never _be _in the same classes. Thor, who was in History of Magic with Bucky, had mentioned that Clint was only in a _very_ few classes with his peers, otherwise, he and several others like him were undergoing a different schedule completely under the guidance of a single teacher – Chuck Shurley.

It was a teacher that Bucky hadn’t met yet, and might not ever meet. He’d probably seen him, though, somewhere around, most likely at dinner.

Either way, not sharing _any _classes with Clint made keeping an eye on him a little harder, but Bucky had noticed at mealtimes that Clint seemed to be getting _more _skittish, not less, sometimes hightailing it away from anyone who looked his way, leaving Bucky to ask Thor how Clint was doing.

“I am concerned, friend Barnes – “

“Bucky, man, just call me Bucky, will ya?” Bucky said, for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bucky, then,” Thor said, inclining his head. “He does not converse with many, even myself, though we are dorm mates. I fear he is not happy, though I know not why.” Thor hesitated. “Sometimes my overtures of friendship get ignored. And other times, Clint will at least answer me, even if that answer is no. I find it very confusing.”

And that seemed a common theme. Clint avoided people more and more the longer they were at Hogwarts, though Bucky had noticed Clint avoided him less than the others, sitting near him around mealtimes – well, as close as you could when you were at different tables, anyway.

Sometimes, when Bucky needed some peace and quiet, he’d go into the grounds surrounding the castle and he’d bump into Clint. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them, as they’d sit beside each other in a comfortable silence.

When Bucky wasn’t worrying about Clint, he was checking in on Steve or enduring Tony’s nosiness. The other Ravenclaw was highly interested in his arm. As much as Bucky had tried to hide it, they shared a room and it had been inevitable that Tony would eventually notice it.

Eventually wound up being approximately 3 minutes after they’d climbed up to their rooms and pulled out their trunks, getting ready for bed that very first night.

Before Bucky could react, Tony had Bucky’s sleeve pushed up to expose his arm. Tony was cradling it carefully, muttering as he ran his fingers along the artificial limb.

“Fascinating! You’ve got nearly a full range of movement. How’s the dexterity? Can you feel anything?” Tony knocked his knuckles on Bucky’s arm and Bucky tore it out of his grasp, curling it in against himself with a glare.

“No,” Bucky growled.

Tony frowned at him. “You know, that’s one of my father’s specialties. You’d be surprised how many witches and wizards lose a limb for one reason or another. We could totally upgrade that for you. Better range, quality dexterity – and we’ve been working on the skin sensitivity – “

“We?” Bucky couldn’t help asking. “Aren’t you a little young to – “

Tony shrugged. “I’m kind of a genius,” he grinned. “Dad just wants me to socialize a bit more.”

“Wait,” Bucky said slowly, as the pieces fell into place. “Anthony – “

“I told you, Tony,” Tony said easily, though there was a tightness to his voice that Bucky recognized.

“Anthony Stark. The Stark Scholarships – “ Bucky pushed a little uneasily but unwilling to let go just yet.

“Yeah, that was dad,” Tony said, turning back to his own bed. “Part of why I’m here instead of at one of the schools back home.”

“To show his support,” Bucky said.

Tony flashed him a smile, but it seemed a little bitter. “Yup. Hogwarts needed to rebuild _and _it needed to convince people it was safe to return to. What better way to show that than to send your own son?”

“Gotta say, that makes sense,” Bucky said slowly. “Did you – “

“Have a choice? Not really,” Tony said. “He’s always so busy helping others he forgets I’m my own person sometimes.”

Huh, Bucky thought. He thought of his mother and of Stevie’s, how they both struggled but how much they cared, how they gave their children choices as much as they were able and respected them. He instantly felt both better about his life and guilty that Tony couldn’t say the same. With a sigh, Bucky resigned himself to yet another kid that would be taken in under the collective Grant-Barnes wing.

Tony’s dad turned out to be right. Tony had a good heart, and he _was _smart – hence he was in Ravenclaw - but he definitely needed a bit more practice around people. Not a day went by that he didn’t insult _somebody_ and Bucky had to drag him out of a fight.

Good thing he had all that practice with Steve.

“He’s not _that _bad,” Steve said at breakfast. Bucky watched him make moon eyes at Tony and snorted.

“Sure, pal, you keep telling yourself that.” Bucky perked up as Thor and Clint entered the Hall. Bucky saw Thor point at their little group, saw Clint bite his lip nervously, then nod. Clint sat next to Bucky, Thor sat across from him, Steve was surrounded by Sam and Tony and Nat slipped into a space on the other side of Clint almost as soon as he’d sat down.

Bucky hadn’t even seen her enter the room.

Steve, Tony and Sam bickered good naturedly – only occasionally remembering to include anyone else – while Clint flinched whenever they got too loud, though he did seem to be doing less of that these days. Bucky pressed in silently, having learned that Clint seemed okay with that – from him, at least - and this morning was no different, Clint relaxing into the press, taking comfort from him.

On Clint’s other side, Nat filled his plate, because otherwise Clint wouldn’t and Thor regaled them of stories from his own country. Alpine jumped onto the table and Bucky smiled, watching Clint feed the white fluffball tidbits from his own plate. Steve’s owl was in the owlery but Thor’s snake was hanging around his neck. Not everyone had a pet, but Bucky thought that Clint really wanted one.

He didn’t mind sharing until Clint got one. Alpine seemed to genuinely like him.

“Hey,” Steve said, breaking into Bucky’s thoughts, “I think most of us have that History test tomorrow – let’s all of us meet up in the library after dinner for a study group – whaddya say?”

“Why, Steven, that sounds a wonderful idea!” Thor exclaimed exuberantly. 

In less than an instant, Clint stiffened and sat up straight, Alpine protesting as he drew away. He pushed his plate away, murmured something even as everyone else was agreeing to the plan, and left the table. The rest of them didn’t seem to notice, but Bucky, Nat and Thor’s eyes all trailed after Clint and then glanced at each other worriedly.

“Did he not think he was welcome?” Thor asked, much quieter than Bucky had ever heard him before. It was a little unnerving.

Bucky bit his lip and side eyed the rest of the group. They had to know Clint wasn’t in the same classes as them for a reason – whatever test _they _were studying for would be far beyond where Clint was. Clint was probably feeling inadequate and… like maybe he didn’t _belong _with them, despite being their similar ages.

That was when Thor promised to keep Bucky and Nat filled in on how Clint was doing when they weren’t around. Bucky just wasn’t sure it was enough. Somehow, they had to get Clint to open up and trust them, at least a little bit. Clint needed to _know _he had friends in them and that he was safe from whatever it was he feared.

Bucky just didn’t know _how._


	8. Chapter 7 – (Clint) Getting Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogs weren't an option on the Hogwarts Letter but Clint didn't get one of those, so it doesn't really apply, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ack! i was supposed to put this up yesterday. oh well...

Clint sniffled and wiped at his eyes. God, he was just too stupid to be here and everyone around him knew it. He headed away from the castle with the vague idea of a long walk away from everybody who could possibly be looking for him.

He didn’t expect there’d be many. Even Thor had something better to do right now.

It had only been two weeks, and Clint had somehow needed medical help even more often at school than he ever had at home. There’d been the incident with the staircase, more than once actually, before he’d gotten the hang of it. Then the explosion in potions class. The day after that, the healing draught he’d attempted to create had given him itchy spots so bad he’d started bleeding from the scratching. His charm class had left him with black and blues all over as his Wingardium Leviosa had spun wildly about claiming objects he hadn’t even targeted and dropping them over his own head.

And that wasn’t counting the sheer number of times he’d tripped over or into something – or someone. Half the kids gave him a wide berth now, not wishing to be taken down by his clumsy ass. He’d spilled scalding hot soup all over himself – why had it been served _that_ hot anyway? – and the students to either side of him. A couple of students had hexed him, but he’d completely missed who. He’d fallen into the lake and gotten tangled in something before he’d been pushed back out.

Nobody had warned him about the Whomping Willow.

And it went on and on.

He still felt guilty for Professor Kirks injury during the flying lesson and Professor McCleod’s scorched eyebrows from the explosion. Neither of them had seemed mad, but Clint had walked around both of them on tenterhooks for _days_ just waiting for them to lash out.

Today, he hadn’t even suffered an injury, which should have been a plus, a bright side, right? Instead, he’d been humiliated in his History of Magic class when he’d confused Goblins for House Elves when talking about the uprising of… of… oh who the fuck even cared? What did it matter that there was a fight long before Clint had ever been born? (He ignored the bit of himself that tried to remind Clint about how proud he’d been of his essay from the night before, arguing in favor of the uprising).

In either case, the whole class had laughed and Clint had sunk down low into his seat. He didn’t belong here and every day he was, was another day he was just fooling himself. His dad was right and he was just an idiot playing at being something more.

He angrily wiped away more tears as he walked, only spotting the dog on the edge of the Forbidden Forest by sheer accident. Clint looked around and edged closer when he saw he was alone. Though, this being a magic school, he wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t. Surely there was something like an invisibility charm or potion or something, and the last thing he wanted was to be kicked out because he wasn’t listening to the rules. Still, he wasn’t actually going _in _to the forest, he reasoned, so he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Not that that sort of reasoning ever worked when an adult was determined to be mad at you. His father was proof positive of that. But it was a _dog_, and if Clint wasn’t mistaken, the dog was struggling to walk. Clint rushed forward, gasping in horror at the blood and mud coating the dog’s fur. It was so matted and bedraggled that Clint had no idea what the color of his fur was.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Clint said, no thought to the idea that the dog might not be friendly. He skidded to a stop on his knees beside the dog who limped over to him, the tail wagging weakly before dropping into Clint’s lap. The dog was heavier than it looked and he was afraid trying to carry it would aggravate its injuries.

Other than its leg, one of its eyes was closed and crusted over and there were cuts all over it’s back and ribs. It was clear the dog needed attention and Clint certainly had no idea how to help. He briefly thought of Doctor McCoy in the medical wing, but discarded that idea for Professor Castiel. Doctor McCoy only knew spells and treatments for humans and Professor Fitzgerald had more than once explained that the spells that worked on animals worked differently on humans and vice versa.

On the other hand, Professor Castiel was the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. The dog probably wasn’t magical, but it _was_ a creature, right?

The only downside was that Professor Castiel lived in one of the towers when he wasn’t out teaching or taking care of said creatures. Even if Clint _could _carry the dog, there was no way he could carry him that far –

Or… Clint dug into his robes, fishing out his wand. Swallowing anxiously, he waved it over the dog – swish and flick, he reminded himself – and spoke the words of the spell with grim determination. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

To Clint’s delight and surprise, the spell actually worked for him, the dog floating into the air. The dog whimpered, its legs jerking in its own surprise. It whined as Clint stood, his wand ready to recast the spell if he needed to, and pulled the dog close to his body. The spell made things float but not fly, but at least the dog was lighter now, right? He could totally do this.

He turned and headed for the castle, hoping everyone was busy with their after dinner activities. But when was a Barton – especially Clint – ever lucky? A first year cornered him on the staircase.

“You can’t have a dog at Hogwarts!”

“Why not?” Clint asked, cradling Lucky protectively. Yes, he’d already named the dog. Who was also getting heavy again. “Everyone else has pets, why can’t I?” Clint resolutely did _not _think about what he would do with Lucky come summertime. Surely he’d be able to make arrangements for the dog? Regardless, he had to get Lucky fixed up before he started making any plans.

The kid spluttered. “But… my letter said… a cat, an owl or a toad!”

“I never got a letter,” Clint said defiantly. “Therefore, that rule must not apply to me.” He knew that wasn’t how it worked, but he was determined to keep this sweet dog who was nuzzling into his neck, his body trembling in Clint’s hands.

Or maybe his hands were shaking. Lucky was heavy. Actually, getting heavier. Shit.

Fumbling for his wand, he attempted to cast the spell again but dropped the wand instead. “Aw, wand, no…” Clint complained softly. Lucky’s weight was pressing down on Clint more and more by the second.

And then he wasn’t, the dog lifting away. Clint protested – only to find it had been Thor who had plucked the dog easily from Clint’s arms.

“Do you require assistance, Clint?” Thor asked.

Clint blinked. “I mean… you’ve already taken him off my hands,” Clint remarked, bending over to retrieve his wand. The first year was already gone, Bucky glaring down the empty corridor where presumably the kid had fled. Bucky was there too? Clint blinked and shook his head. “But yes, please. He’s hurt and I thought Professor Cas might help.”

“Of course! That is wise thinking,” Thor agreed, already turning and walking carefully up the steps, so as not to jostle the dog. Clint scrambled after him, unwilling to let the dog out of his sight, glancing back at Bucky briefly before doing so. Bucky was following silently along.

“I’m hardly wise,” Clint said reflexively, stretching his steps to catch up to Thor, his earlier thoughts of unworthiness coming back to him. He winced at having said it out loud.

“Are you not?”

“Uh… well if I was, wouldn’t I be in Ravenclaw?” Clint pointed out, thankful his legs were as long as Thors, even if the other boy was bulkier than Clint was, because even with Clint’s long strides Thor was already outpacing him. Bucky, shorter than either of them, didn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping up, even if he was keeping completely silent.

“My mother says that there are many kinds of wisdom in this world. A Ravenclaw’s wisdom is just one of those many, and the others are not less because they are not Ravenclaw,” Thor said evenly. “Be proud of yourself, Clint, and of your special wisdom.”

Clint’s brow furrowed as he followed Thor. He didn’t respond, trying to figure out what Thor could be referring to. Clint didn’t have any wisdom, Ravenclaw or otherwise. He just… wasn’t that smart. He’d been failing all his classes in regular school, why should he do any better here? And so far, his success rate at spells had born out that thinking.

A hand clasped his arm, and Clint instinctively flinched back, breath catching before he reminded himself it was just Bucky. His head whipped around to stare at Bucky who was dropping his hand with an apologetic smile.

“He’s right, you know,” Bucky said quietly. “Or, well, his mother, anyway. Either way.” Bucky gave Clint a reassuring smile. “And you can trust me cause I _am _a Ravenclaw.”

Clint couldn’t help but snort. “Not sure that’s how it works,” he said lightly but his heart was skipping at the implications. Bucky thought he was smart? Thor too? What were they seeing that Clint didn’t? That nobody else ever seemed to?

Before he knew it, the three of them were at the top of the tower. Thor’s hands were full of dog so Clint skittered in front and knocked on the door. It was tentative and he grimaced, bracing himself before trying again. Lucky needed help, there was no time to pussyfoot around, afraid that an adult might get angry at him for being too loud. Clint’s next attempt was much louder and he had to hide the tremble in his hands, shoving them into his robes.

It was a long time before the door opened, long enough that Clint shifted on his feet and looked at the other two with a raised brow. “Should I knock aga – “

The door scraped open and Clint almost shrieked, jerking back.

“Mr. Barton?” Professor Castiel asked. “Are you covered in blood? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

Clint blinked. There seemed to be some real concern in the Professors voice – for _him_. “Uh, no, no it’s not mine. Professor, I found this dog by the forest. He’s hurt real bad. Can you help him? Ya gotta help him!”

The door opened wider, revealing their teacher, and Clint felt a little guilty about disturbing him from… whatever he’d been doing with his shirt off. But not too guilty. There was Lucky to consider after all.

“Oh, oh my. Yes, bring him right in,” the professor said, moving out of the way. Thor followed him inside, as did Clint and Bucky. The professor waved his wand to clear off his desk and he gestured at Thor to put the dog down on it. “My apologies for my appearance, I was not expecting company. Now, let’s see what we’ve got…”


	9. Chapter 8  ( Cas )  - Unpacking a Few Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finds he's getting closer to another professor more than he'd like...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a schedule and I've been forgetting to post the chapters on time :(  
also, i deliberately spaced it out so i could work on other things and it would all go up before xmas, but i'm just getting so antsy to put the whole thing out now...
> 
> anyway, i'm putting up 2 chapters today. one is 2 days late, the other is a day early. so enjoy :D

Castiel looked out of the window of his tower, his wings spread behind him, tension bleeding from his back every second they were stretched out, air ruffling through the feathers.

It felt so good, even if he still didn’t feel safe enough to use his feathers outside of his own room. How he missed being able to fly – to _really _fly. A broomstick just wasn’t good enough, didn’t give him the same sort of fine control or exhilaration that flying under his own power could.

His eyesight was keen as he watched the students wander across the grounds. It was the pre dinner rest and recreation period, classes all done for the day. The downtime was essential, sorely needed for some of them. The past few weeks had been a rough transition for some of the students though he worried more about some than others.

Clint was one, though since he’d found Lucky he’d seemed to be doing better emotionally. And that seemed to translate into his classes, too. He _excelled _in certain classes and Professor Shurley had even approached some of the other teachers about private tutoring to help Clint catch up.

“He’s not an idiot. He thinks he is, but he isn’t. He learns quite quickly when he gives himself a chance,” Shurley had said to a small select group of teachers that included Castiel. “He’s just never had the opportunity before.”

“You might be right,” Professor Spock had said. “But you don’t want to push him too fast, either. That could damage his confidence. And it would not do to pile too much extra work on the boy – he still needs time to be a child.”

“Don’t think he ever has been,” Leonard snorted.

“I think you’re right,” Jim said slowly.

“Best thing to do is ask Clint himself what he wants to do,” Dean said.

And that had been that. If Shurley had approached Clint, Castiel was unaware of it, but currently Clint and Lucky were bounding around the grounds playing a game of tag. Castiel smiled when he noticed the usual suspects that gathered around Clint and joining in.

Whether Clint was aware of it or not, the boy did have friends. He just hoped –

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and he scrambled back from the window, grabbed up his wand, muttered the spell that helped him hide his wings and composed himself before answering the door.

He probably should put on a shirt, he was a teacher after all and must set an example, but it already felt confining just putting his wings away and this was his own, private space. Which had also been his reasoning the other night when his students brought him an injured dog.

Dean was on the other side, eyes going wide at the sight of Castiel and he didn’t speak for long moments before Castiel prodded him with a gruff, “Yes, Dean? Did you need something?”

Something about the fact that seeing him shirtless obviously set Dean speechless pleased Castiel, causing a flutter that had nothing to do with his wings to run through him and settle in his gut. Oh… that could be trouble.

“Uh, hi… Cas. Um… I was wondering if you wanted to help me with some things I just got in? I mean, I know it’s not your area of expertise but it’d be more fun with someone to share the load?” Dean asked, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

It was endearing and -

_No… that way lies trouble,_ Castiel chided himself._ I_ _cannot afford to get close to Dean in that way, not with what I am, with what I’m hiding_.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends, though. In fact, it would be more beneficial to them, and to being teachers, if they were and Castiel felt relief that he didn’t have to completely ignore the pull between them.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said. “That sounds wonderful. Let me just get decent before we head out. I assume to your classroom?”

He stepped back and Dean followed him in, Castiel casting about for a shirt while Dean obviously looked around.

“Yeah. It’s more space than my quarters _and_ no student’s gonna stumble on us in there when classes are over for the day,” Dean said.

Castiel hummed. It was a reasonable assumption, though there were always overachievers. He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it, then a medium gray cabled sweater to ward against the chill of the castle. He glanced at his robes, then discarded the idea. Outside of classes were the opportunity for all of them to wander about more casually. And while this wasn’t a rest day, most of the classes _were _done for the day, as Dean had said. Close enough. He would still, absolutely, help any student in need, but he felt he was more approachable without the robes.

Dean, he had noticed early on, ditched his robes as often as possible, complaining about how often they got in his way.

Castiel followed Dean out of the tower and down towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He was always fascinated when he went into the other teachers’ spaces. Due to the type of classes he taught, Castiel didn’t have a formal classroom like the rest of them did, though he didn’t mind. He preferred teaching his classes in the great outdoors, anyway, even if it might be more challenging come winter.

Still, they’d make it work, he was sure. He was nothing if not adaptable. And unlike some of the other teachers, he actually had the ability to pick the previous teachers’ brains for tips and tricks they had employed and past lessons they’d covered.

Though it was a little weird to pull a student aside to ask for that advice. Still, Hagrid should be proud that he was getting this opportunity. Vindicated, even, from the little bit Castiel had gleaned.

It was also a good blow to that stricture about non humans learning magic. Hogwarts was paving the way – what with non-human teachers (even if they were only aware of the one) and half human students. Castiel should come out, show his support, but it had been ingrained on him to _never _do so.

So far, he’d spent half his time teaching and the other half debating with himself about the issue.

Well, he was going to table the issue for now and just enjoy the time with Dean. The two of them set to unpacking one of the three large boxes that had been left in the center of the room, Castiel moving about under Dean’s guidance, listening to Dean ramble on explanations about each item.

Some of it were simple decorations, a good many things were items Dean planned to teach about in classes.

Castiel frowned as he reached in to the last box, pushing around the wood shavings. He thought he’d seen the glint of metal, one last piece hiding in the packing. His hand hit something solid and he grasped it, pulling it out of the box and setting it on one of the desks.

It was two masks bleeding into each other, made of shining silver and glittering like stars. Power ebbed from it, a low level thing that made the hair on the back of his neck rise and his feathers to rustle anxiously.

He turned to Dean.

“And what is this one?”

Dean turned around after placing a handful of items on the shelf in the front corner of the room, by the little staircase.

He frowned and walked over to Castiel, taking the heavy mask from him. “I didn’t send for this,” Dean said with a furrowed brow. “It looks like one of those Muggle Media things – a drama symbol, I think, though I’ve never seen one quite like this.”

“Is it dangerous?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. “Shouldn’t be, but I’ll give it a look. Anyway, I think we’re done here. Thanks for the help, Cas,” Dean said, shooting him a wide grin.

And there were those flutters again. Castiel stamped them down. The mask might not be dangerous, but _this _was. He backed away with a nod. “It was no problem, Dean. I must get back – I had some things I needed to do.”

Then he turned and fled at a brisk walk – _not_ a run. There was no need for Dean to see how unsettled Castiel had become.


	10. Chapter 9 (Clint) - Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's adjusting better now, Nat's gotten a pet and life is still throwing surprises at him...

Professor Castiel had Lucky hobbling about in no time. Hobbling being the operative word. "Magic doesn't cure everything," was a saying Clint was starting to hate because he'd been hoping so hard that it would.  
  
He'd been hoping it would fix his ears. He'd been hoping it would make him into something that would make his dad proud and stop... well... being the family disappointment. Clint still wasn't sure what he did that made his dad so mad all the time. Barney was the only good thing about living on the farm and even he had his moments when Clint wished they weren't brothers.  
  
That was a horrible thought. Apparently magic couldn't take those away either.  
  
Still, in only a couple of days, Lucky - now down one leg and one eye - had taken to following Clint wherever he went and Clint couldn’t believe how happy Lucky made him. His friends all snuck Lucky treats at meals and in between them too, and came out to join Clint when he and Lucky went on walks or played around the grounds.

Even Alpine seemed to like Lucky.

Bucky shrugged. “She likes you, and Lucky’s a pretty friendly dog so…”

Clint beamed at Bucky and Bucky – for some strange reason – blushed.

With Lucky paving the way, Clint found things a little easier. He wasn’t sure how or why that was, but he found himself less likely to avoid his new friends. It still surprised him that anyone would want to be friends with _him_ but for now, he was choosing to embrace it, as much as he was able, anyway.

Thor, he found, seemed to talk a little more quietly when Clint was around. Not that he still wasn’t loud, but he didn’t boom out loudly and suddenly anymore. Tony ribbed _everybody_, not just Clint. Sam always seemed to know just when Clint had had too much and either steer the conversation away from Clint, or just steer _everyone _away from Clint. Steve always tried to include Clint on things, in a way that Clint had finally come to realize was not an afterthought but out of a genuine desire to do so.

As for Bucky and Nat… aside from Clint, they were the quietest of the group. And had the sharpest eyes. Sometimes Clint was sure they saw right through him and knew every last secret he had.

If they did, they weren’t saying anything.

With Nat around, Clint also realized he wasn’t the only one who didn’t get owls or any sort of messages from home, and by now he had discovered that Bucky’s arm was special, like his magic ears. It finally dawned on Clint that he, just maybe, wasn’t alone.

As he relaxed around his new friends, he settled in more and… things started to go better. He had less accidents overall and Professor Shurley even approached him to tell him how well he’d been doing in class.

He’d also offered some extra classes, just him, to help him catch up with his peers.

“It won’t be right away, of course,” Professor Shurley said. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on, but depending on your work load, we may be able to advance you in some of your classes by at least a year, then do it again the next.”

An idea came to Clint, something that he knew Muggles did sometimes and with it the added bonus that maybe – just maybe – he wouldn’t have to go home? He knew he had to ask.

“What about Summer School?”

“Summer School?” the teacher asked. “You mean, continue your classes year round?”

Clint nodded eagerly.

Professor Shurley shook his head slowly, Clint’s stomach dropping with each movement of the teachers’ head. “I mean, sure. You’re capable of doing that and we could probably accommodate you, but don’t you want to go home and visit your family?”

Swallowing, Clint said nothing. A _normal_ kid _would_ want to do that, but Clint was dreading it immensely. Here, he finally had friends and felt like he belonged. His ears weren’t setting him apart nearly as much – hell, he was fairly certain most of the other kids hadn’t even realized there was anything _wrong _with his ears (just perhaps, Clint, thinking he’d spaced out or something).

Neither was his families lack of money setting him apart. Not already being familiar with his family as all the locals back home were – people gave him the benefit of the doubt, judging him for _him _and not Barney or his dad.

And if he had to go home for the summer, he’d be going right back to that, to living in their shadow, hiding from his dad’s fists and Barneys mercurial moods.

At least Barney didn’t hit him.

“If you don’t get caught up right away, it ain’t the end of the world, son,” Professor Shurley said gently, misreading Clint’s disappointment.

Clint’s smile felt brittle as he just nodded. He wasn’t going to argue it and give lie to the happy home environment he _must _have. Instead, he put his head down and worked out the new schedule, then ran off when the dinner bell rang. Clint dodged other students in the corridors, most of them giving him a wider berth so that no one tripped over Lucky, and slipped into his space beside Thor at the Hufflepuff table.

Lucky ducked under the bench and lay across Clint’s feet as Thor greeted him, as if they didn’t see each other every morning. Clint couldn’t help the small smile that came over him at Thor’s eager friendliness.

“Clint! It is good to see you! How has your day been? What do you think of all the decorations?”

Clint shrugged non committedly to the first question, neatly avoiding it. “They really go all out, here,” Clint said. Halloween back home was nothing. His father didn’t decorate and didn’t buy candy and the farm being so far out in the middle of nowhere meant that even if people were willing to brave his dad, the walk wasn’t worth it.

He turned to smile at Bucky when he and Tony came in, sitting at the Ravenclaw table behind them, then looked around the room to make sure everyone else made it as well. It was a habit Clint didn’t know when he’d started, keeping tabs on his friends and making sure they were okay.

He spotted Sam and Steve first, since the Gryffindor table was the last set of tables in the hall and Clint was facing that wall. He had to twist around to spot Nat at the Slytherin table just past Ravenclaw – and frowned because she wasn’t looking at him but down at something she was holding cupped into her hands.

“Did you see Nat in Potions today?” Clint asked Thor as food appeared on the tables.

Thor paused in the act of reaching for a giant turkey leg and blinked. “Actually, I did not. Is she well?”

Clint forced himself to turn away from the Slytherin table, his eyes sliding to Bucky on the way. Bucky’s gaze met his and then flicked away to look at Nat and back at Clint, a small frown forming. Clint shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t know what had her so preoccupied.

Getting through dinner was torturous, Clint trying to keep an eye out on Nat so he didn’t miss her when she left the hall, but Lucky was begging for food and Clint might not always remember to feed himself but he would never do that to Lucky.

A tap on his shoulder had Clint whirling about to see Bucky standing. He jerked his head towards the entrance of the hall and Clint just managed to see Nat disappearing through it. Clint grabbed a bunch of things off the table, shoved them into his robes and stumbled to his feet.

“Thanks, Bucky,” he said breathlessly. “C’mon, Luck.” With both Bucky and Lucky following him, Clint darted down the aisle and out the door. Nat was already out of sight, but Lucky dashed away from him and Clint cursed under his breath, scrambling to keep up.

Lucky led Clint and Bucky on a merry chase through the school, landing them in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom – which was where they found Nat, kneeling on the floor and reaching under a bookcase.

“Nat? Is everything all right?” Clint asked breathlessly. Lucky had joined Nat and he was crouched down, one paw swiping under the bookcase too.

“Lucky! No!” Nat cried out.

“Nat?” Bucky asked as Clint pulled Lucky away from the bookcase.

Swearing in a language Clint didn’t recognize, Nat stood and took out her wand, pointing it right at the bookcase. “Wingardium Leviosa!” she snapped.

Clint squeaked and dragged Lucky away from Nat and the bookcase, colliding with Bucky and sending the three of them sprawling to the ground, Lucky squirming beneath them with a whining whimper.

The bookcase lifted and wobbled, something underneath it squeaked and ran, and then the bookcase came down flat, books flying everywhere as it landed, shelf side down, Nat only just dancing out of its way as she chased the tiny blur that had fled from beneath it.

Clint, Bucky and Lucky weren’t so… lucky, so to speak. The books and several other objects had landed on top of them, Clint covering his head as they did.

When he was sure everything had settled, Clint slowly sat up and peeked around before helping Bucky up.

“What a mess!” Clint said with dawning horror, his stomach twisting. “Professor Dean’s gonna kill us!”

Bucky grasped Clint’s shoulder. “Not if we get it cleaned up,” he said.

Clint nodded. “I like the way you think,” he said, quickly setting to work. He wasn’t sure if he dared use the same charm, not after how spectacularly the bookcase had fallen the first time, but between them, Clint and Bucky were able to manhandle the heavy bookcase back upright and against the wall.

Lucky ran around their feet, which made picking up all the books and checking them over harder to do. Then they looked at each other, at the shelf and down at the books.

“Do you remember what order they go in?” Clint asked.

Bucky shook his head. “But Professor Dean – _“ Don’t call me Winchester, there’s two of us and it’ll get confusing real fast _– “has them in year order and we only knocked down one shelf so…” Bucky shrugged and placed the books on the nearby desks into stacks and then started sorting them. As soon as a stack was ready, Clint would file it away on the shelf. Together, the work was done in no time and they turned around to look for Nat and Lucky.

That’s when Clint spotted the curios on the floor. “Uh oh, Bucky. I don’t think the bookcase was only holding books,” he said, picking up the dual mask on the ground. “Where do you think it went?”

Bucky frowned and took the strange mask from Clint’s hands just as Nat and Lucky joined them. There was a squirming bundle in her hands and both Clint and Bucky froze.

“What is _that?” _Bucky asked.

“She’s a ferret, and I named her Mata Hari,” Nat said. “I just got her today.”

“How?” Clint asked, reaching for cuteness wriggling in Nat’s grip.

“Professor Castiel – he said a friend of his breeds them and this one hadn’t been able to find a home because she’s a troublemaker,” Nat said proudly.

“Sounds like she’ll fit right in,” Bucky said dryly, placing the mask on the top shelf. He stared after it with a frown, wiping his hands on his robes.

Clint nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, at least it didn’t break, right?”

“Thanks,” Nat said. “For cleaning up the mess I made. I’m so sorry. It’s just that she got away from me and I’ve never had a pet before. I was so afraid she’d get lost or worse. I haven’t even had her a full day.”

“No problem,” Clint said, reaching out to run his fingers down Mata Hari’s nose. “I think I’ll call her Mats.”

Nat glared at him. “I already named her and her _name_ is Mata Hari.”

“Sure, but Mats is short for that.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue it. Instead, the three of them rejoined their friends, introducing them to Nat’s new pet. Time passed all too quickly with them all engrossed in playing with the ferret and before Clint knew it, it was time for bed.

He fell asleep feeling good, taking off his magic ears and carefully setting them aside.

Clint woke up – he knew not how many hours later – to loud snoring and the sound of wind clattering against the window. He frowned, yawning as he rolled over – his body a strange, heavy weight that didn’t feel right. Had he forgotten to take off his ears?

Reaching up with a yawn, Clint felt around his ears and there was nothing there.

But he could _hear _Tony snoring.

Wait.

Tony?

He shifted to the edge of the bed and stood, his left arm a dead weight and he reached for his wand. He didn’t find it. In fact, his bedside table wasn’t where he’d left it. Frown growing deeper, he stood, looking around a bit and in the pale moonlight shining through the room, Clint finally realized he wasn’t in the Hufflepuff dormitory.

There was too much blue for that, and the room was shaped differently. The décor was different and there were less beds than there should have been.

Clint stumbled back, tripping over a trunk with a loud clatter and crash.

The snoring stopped with an inelegant snort, and then a figure rose from the other bed. “Barnes? You okay?”

Clint squeaked, because that _was _Tony, which meant he was in Ravenclaw tower! How had he _gotten_ there?

“I’m not Bucky, I’m Clint!” he said but his voice had come out all wrong.

“Nice try, Bucky. You must be dreaming. I knew you liked Clint but geez man, just… go the fuck back to bed, okay?”

Wait, what? Bucky liked Clint? Like, how? They were friends, weren’t they? And why did Tony seem convinced he _was _Bucky when he very clearly_ wasn’t? _Clint pushed at the ground to stand and overbalanced, sipping sideways again and hitting his ass on the floor.

He stared down at his left arm, which wasn’t cooperating. Had he broken it somehow? But no, it didn’t hurt, so that couldn’t be it.

Using his other hand to pick up his left, Clint brought it closer to his face, twisting it this way and that but there was no mistaking it for anything else – Bucky’s special arm.

What the _fuck_ was going _on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND FINALLY hit the body swap square!!!  
also, FERRETS!  
Fun fact, when i was growing up ,my dad always kept ferrets in our house. one of them, mine, was named Mata Hari - a suggestion from my stepmom, who said Mata Hari was a spy - and we wound up eventually calling the ferret Mats for the simple fact that she looked so much like our very first ferret we kept calling her by that ones name by accident (which had been Fats - short for Fatima Mrs. Cravits - no, i don't know why the name was like that. i was really little.) anyway, i thought it'd be fitting if Nat had a ferret named after a spy ;D


	11. Chapter 10 - (Bucky) Rude Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was sleeping pleasantly - until he wasn't, but he's not sure he isn't still dreaming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting too antsy to keep to my schedule! I think i'm gonna up the posting rate...

For once, Bucky was sleeping fairly easy.

Tony, miracle of miracles, didn't seem to be snoring tonight, or maybe Bucky had gotten used to it and just tuned it out - either way, he wasn't arguing with the result. His shoulder wasn't screaming with phantom pains and his arm, in fact, felt light and not all that unwieldy.

He rolled over easily, smoothly, a warmth settled beside him that tried to ping his sleeping mind as he slung an arm over it and snuggled closer.

What he couldn’t ignore was the shaking. Bucky frowned and growled out, “Leave me alone!”

At least, he thought he did, but then sleep pulled at him and he found he really didn’t care if he’d said it out loud or just thought it.

But the shaking wouldn’t stop.

Jerking upright, he glared at his waker, the words, “What do you want?!” trailing off his lips in astonishment as he stared into his own, fairly panicked face. “What the _hell?” _Bucky said. Then blinked. “Wait… “ His hands moved instinctively, flying up to his lips, then his ears. “I can’t hear…” His eyes flicked over to his own face in panic and watched in confusion as sad understanding crossed it. “I can’t hear anything!” Bucky yelled – _thought _he yelled, cause he couldn’t hear himself either.

The other Bucky nodded and held up a finger, then turned aside, to the bedtable, and picked something up. Two somethings. He stepped closer to Bucky and reached for his head. Bucky flinched back – he couldn’t help it – and the other him paused and gave him a sympathetic smile. The eyes were his, but not, he realized. There was something in them… something he recognized… but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Bucky took a deep breath, then nodded.

Other Bucky’s hand was swift but careful, tucking something around his ears, first one, then the other, while his other hand – his left, Bucky realized – hung limp and useless at the Other Bucky’s side. The fingers tapped the things now around Bucky’s ears, and Other Bucky’s mouth moved, saying a word Bucky couldn’t hear and the world suddenly came back into focus with a staticky pop.

Now he could hear everything, his own panicked breathing, the wind outside, the sound of someone’s voice – Thor, he thought – talking from across the room, but it all sounded so _strange _and it was all too much at once. _What the hell is going on?_ Bucky thought as the sound assaulted him in an undistinguishable wave. He covered his ears, trying to filter something – anything – out, or just shut it all down but the Other Bucky gently grabbed a hand and pulled it away, leaning in close.

“Give it a second,” Other Bucky said. Bucky’s sure he only understood him because he was standing so closely. Other Bucky’s fingers are still clasped around Bucky’s, the thumb of making soothing circle on Bucky’s hand. He swallows, waiting as instructed, cringing while a concerned Thor appeared behind the Other Bucky.

Slowly, Bucky’s breathing calms.

“What’s going on?” Bucky finally asked. His voice sounded funny. It… he sounded like _Clint!_

Other Bucky grimaced. “I don’t know, exactly, but, I’m guessing it’s a straight swap but what do I know? I just woke up like this!” He closed his eyes and dropped Bucky’s hand. Bucky immediately missed the contact, which was stupid, because that was his own body… right? Other Bucky rubbed at his head. “Sorry, sorry. So, I’m not Bucky, I’m Clint. And whoever you are, you’re in my body.”

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky whispered, eyes going wide. “How did this even happen?”

“So, it _was _a straight swap, then,” Clint said. He sat heavily on the bed. “What should we do? And how do I get your arm to work?”

Bucky leaned over and picked up his arm – and that was really weird. “I dunno. It’s just… supposed to work. No special words or anything.”

Clint sighed. “Maybe we should talk to Doctor McCoy.”

“You think he’d know anything about this?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised.

Shrugging, Clint said, “It’s a place to start, right?”

“Yeah, okay, let’s go.” Bucky swung his legs over the bed and stood, then looked down. “Um, I think I should get dressed first.”

Thor insisted on going with them to see Dr. McCoy, pointing out that they didn’t know what had caused this or if it was over and done with. Something else _could_ happen on the way and they’d need help. Bucky had to – reluctantly - agree. He wanted the fewer people involved the better. Not even so much for _his _sake, but for Clint’s.

He gave his – Clint’s? His? Bucky didn’t even know anymore – ears a poke and saw Clint wince. Bucky hadn’t known about Clint’s ears - nobody had – which meant Clint hadn’t _wanted _anybody to know.

As they walked, Thor and Lucky trailing behind them – Lucky was never one to give up on a grand adventure, as it might wind up with him getting food – Bucky said softly, “I’m sorry, Clint.”

Clint shot him a very confused look, eyebrows down, his head tilting adorably in a way that was inherently Clint despite his outer wrappings and Bucky swallowed.

“What are you sorry for?” Clint asked before promptly tripping. Bucky caught him as Clint grimaced. “Sorry, I feel so unbalanced.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered. He frowned as he barely heard his own words. Even with the magic devices around his ears, his hearing just wasn’t the same. Was this what it was like for Clint _all the time_? With a sigh, Bucky went on. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy.”

“Oh,” Clint said, looking down and giving Bucky a lopsided shrug. God, it was so _weird_ seeing his body move without him being the one _in _it. “’S’not like it’s your fault, right?”

Bucky thought about that. “I don’t think so. Even if it was, it wasn’t intentional.” Bucky had done enough accidental magic in his earlier years to drive his mother crazy. He’d almost reenacted the Fantasia sequence his younger sisters loved, with all the mops and stuff, when he was wishing he could make things a little easier on his mom.

“Anyway, your privacy is being just as invaded as mine is, wouldn’t you say?” Clint pointed out.

That startled Bucky into a laugh. “Huh, I guess so. Hadn’t even thought of it that way.”

Clint beamed at him in a way that made Bucky’s insides go squirmy. “I know. I think…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Bucky stopped, reaching out for Clint. “No, it’s okay, go ahead.”

Blushing, Clint looked down and away, but his fingers tightened over Bucky’s and didn’t let go. He glanced up and made a garbled noise, blowing at the hair that hung in his way. Bucky laughed and used his other hand to push it back out of Clint’s face.

“Not used to long hair, huh?” Bucky teased.

“Nah. I like it on you, though. I mean,” Clint blushed again. “I just mean – “

“What are you kids doing out here in the middle of the night yammering so loudly I can’t even sleep?” Doctor McCoy’s sudden voice had Bucky and Clint jumping, Clint squeaking as he overbalanced again and fell into Bucky’ arms.

He took them both down, and the two of them lay sprawled on top of each other on the floor, much like they had the night prior in Professor Dean’s classroom. It was Bucky’s turn to blush as he tried to help Clint up, avoiding Doctor McCoy’s sleepy scowl.

“Doctor McCoy! It is an emergency – we would not have woken you if it were not,” Thor jumped in helpfully.

“Of course it is,” McCoy muttered. “Well, come in, tell me what happened.”


	12. Chapter 11 - (Cas) Secrets Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets mistaken for Dean which was a little concerning. You'd think Dean's brother, Sam, wouldn't make such a mistake...
> 
> Oh.

The pounding on his door was relentless and Castiel dragged himself out of the bed. He promptly tripped over… something… probably his own feet, seeing as how tired he was. He stumbled to the door and yanked it open.

“Get dressed and head up to the medical wing,” Sam, Dean’s brother, said without preamble on the other side of the door. “A couple of the students have swapped bodies apparently, and they swear they didn’t do anything.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting Dean to deal with this?” Castiel murmured, still only half awake.

Sam, blinked at him almost owlishly. “Uh, Dean… why do you think I’m _here_?”

“Why are you calling me Dean?”

“…” Sam continued to stare at him, eyes going wide.

“Oh no,” Castiel groaned as the implications finally wormed their way through his brain. Then his own eyes widened in a flash of panic as the _full _implications hit him. “_Oh_, _no,_” he breathed.

Shoving past Sam, Castiel sprinted down the hall, intent on reaching his rooms. He could only hope that it was Dean he’d swapped places with. Dean, he felt, would probably at least act with discretion when he found out…

Castiel swallowed and put on another burst of speed. He missed the extra boost his wings would have gotten him but, for a wizard, Dean was actually in really good shape. It took forever and no time at all for him to get to his rooms at the top of his tower, the sound of footsteps pounding behind him letting him know Sam had followed along.

Wonderful.

He just hoped the brothers would _both _be discrete if his secret came out.

Castiel didn’t bother to knock – they were _his _rooms, after all, and it was _his _body, whoever occupied it. Sam hesitated at the door, but when Castiel flew through his door and towards his bedroom, Sam finally stepped inside, following a little more slower now.

“What the hell is all that racket?” Castiel’s voice growled out from deeper in his apartments. It didn’t have his inflections, his accent, but the gravel and the pitch was just right. “I swear to god, Sammy, if –" the voice cut off. “Mother…” the rest of what Dean said trailed away as Castiel burst into his own room and came face to face with himself.

“Dean,” Castiel said, his own voice sounding strange. He could only blame having just wakened for the fact that he hadn’t realized quicker that something was wrong. “It appears we have switched bodies.”

“And you’re not the only ones,” Sam piped up, inching around Castiel to look at Dean. His head swiveled between them. “So Dean, you’re in Cas’s body, Cas, is that you in Dean’s? I mean, I assume it is, since you came _here _out of anywhere you could have gone.”

Castiel looked heavenward and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sam, it is.”

Sam chuckled. “Man, that’s weird.”

Dean was casting about for clothes, and eyeing Castiel as he did. “Well, looks like we should go investigate, but I think I need more clothes first. And so do I – I mean you, Cas.”

Castiel looked down and blushed as he realized he’d gone running through the castle half naked. “My apologies, Dean. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Dean chuckled. “Honestly, I get that. So, you’re forgiven.”

Castiel quickly crossed the room, opening his dresser and handing Dean some clothes and pulling out a pair of pants and shirt for himself.

“Wow, that’s weird,” Sam said. “Seeing Dean wear something so very much not his style.” His voice was amused, and both Castiel and Dean turned, giving him a look.

“Yes, Sam. _This _is the moment to be amused, when something serious may be afoot,” Castiel chided.

“Yeah, Sam, really not the time. I feel… weird,” Dean said with a frown.

Whatever else could be said about Sam’s odd humor in this moment, the amusement fled from his face in an instant at Dean’s words. “Weird how?” Sam asked.

Dean’s frown deepened and he shrugged his shoulders, a hand reaching over them to his back. “Kinda… itchy, actually. _Really _itchy. But not, like, my skin. It’s more like whatever it is causing this itch is _underneath _my skin,” Dean described, Castiel’s stomach falling further with each word. This would be unavoidable.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam said, pushing forward, his wand coming out.

“Sam, wait,” Castiel said resignedly. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed for strength. “I know what it is, and it’s nothing dangerous, I can assure you.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“I’d… rather not say.”

“Cas, I’d love to take your word for it, but if I’m going to figure this out, I need to know everything I can,” Dean said gently. He rolled his shoulders again, tightness pinching at his face.

“All right,” Castiel took a deep breath. “Then, I’ve got no choice but to show you both my greatest secret. Please, you can’t tell _anyone – _this doesn’t affect just me. This isn’t just my own life and livelihood at stake, but those of my family as well.”

“Cas, if it’s that important and not dangerous, then you can rest assured that we will keep your secret,” Sam said earnestly, leaning forward with an open face.

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course,” he agreed. “Now if you know a way to make this stop…” his hands tried to reach under the shirt he now wore with a pained whine.

“Then come here Dean, and take your shirt off.” Castiel walked over to his bed, pulling out the drawer of his bedside table and taking out his wand. Hopefully, it was attuned to his mind and not his body. He hadn’t thought to bring Dean’s along, he wouldn’t have even known where to look for it.

Dean blinked. “Uh, is this really the time to be getting a little frisky, Cas?”

“That’s not –” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean offered. “I’m just… what _is _that?” he pulled the shirt he’d just put on back off and Castiel approached him.

“Turn away from me, that’s right. This is… try not to ‘freak out’, okay Dean?” Castiel said.

“You’re kinda scaring me, Cas,” Dean admitted.

“My apologies,” Castiel said absently, tapping his wand at the base of his – _Dean’s – _neck. Even looking in a mirror, it was highly unlikely that Dean would have seen the mark there. Castiel, himself, only knew what it looked like because each of his family bore the mark – a single feather, pointing downward. He mumbled a word while he tapped the feather – normally, he wouldn’t need to, having mastered wordless casting a long time ago, but with circumstances as they were, he wasn’t going to take any chances – then took a giant step backward.

Near instantly, black wings sprung from Dean’s back, flaring out as Dean overbalanced and panicked, grabbing for something to hold onto. Castiel’s bedposts being the closest, Dean wound up clinging to one of those as Castiel reached out for Dean, with a quick glance back at Sam to see how the other Winchester was dealing with the surprise.

Sam hung back, mouth gaping in shock, but there was no disgust or horror there and Castiel felt a small amount of relief. Dean, however, was who he was _truly _worried about, for reasons he didn’t want to think about at this time.

He turned back to Dean, easing around him to settle the wings down against Dean’s back. It was difficult because Dean didn’t know how to control them at all and they didn’t _want_ to settle, their need to spread out wide never truly satisfied with how often Castiel kept them locked away.

“What the – you have _wings?_” Dean asked, an edge of hysteria in his voice before he managed to clear his throat and quite obviously take a moment to calm himself. That was reassuring because Dean was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with hands on practical experience. Still, Dean blinked at Cas. “This is _normal?”_

“Yes, this is normal,” Castiel said with a defeated sigh. Dean finally braved letting go of the bedposts and took a shaky step or two, both Sam and Castiel reaching out as he tipped in one direction or another. Dean waved them both off, making a circuit around the room before stopping at the mirror and getting an eyeful of his new appendages.

Twisting this way and that, the feathers rustling and shifting, the wings lifting and moving – and it was deliberate, Castiel realized, Dean getting used to the wings quickly, though without much finesse, yet.

“Well, it’s… kinda freaking cool, actually. They look badass. Can you actually fly with them?” Dean asked.

“I can, though it is not something I often have the chance to indulge in,” Castiel admitted.

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because it’s not safe,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean turned, realization coming over his face. “Oh, that’s… well.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, so now I got a feel for these, and how this body feels when they’re away and when they’re out, I think um, we better put them away again so I can actually go and do my job.”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, swiftly stepping back into Dean’s space and tapping the base of his neck again, the tip of his wand hitting the feather as Castiel muttered his word once more. Dean stumbled as the weight lifted and Castiel reached for him, steadying him.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sam reminded them of his presence by clearing _his _throat. Jumping apart, Dean reached for the shirt he’d taken off and put it back on.

“Right, I need my wand, so I’ll have to stop by my room before we head over to the medical wing – I assume that’s where everyone is gathered?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, not that there’s a lot of them. It’s Clint, Bucky, Thor and that dog. Then Doctor McCoy and Professor Kirk unless Kirks’ resumed his rounds.”

“Ah, yes, you were sharing night duty with Professor Kirk,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, that’s why it was me who went to wake up, Dean. This is _weird_,” Sam said.

“This is our life,” Dean pointed out. “Do you expect anything less? Besides, this is _not _the weirdest thing we’ve ever dealt with.”

Sam thought about it and shrugged and Castiel wondered what their life was like before that this was a matter of course.

Well, that didn’t matter right now, did it? Whatever had happened to them had also happened to a couple of students, and figuring that out was the priority.


	13. Chapter 12 - (Jim) Determined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim goes into Crisis Mode, alerting the headmistress of whats going on and then goes off with the other teachers to take roll call - and one student in particular is very demanding when it comes to answers Jim doesn't have.

Jim watched Leonard and Castiel arguing and Dean hovering – no wait, that was Leonard and _Dean_ arguing with _Castiel _hovering. He shook his head in disbelief.

The students, he got. Students never followed the rules, always thought they knew better and experimenting with things best left unexperimented on. Hell, he’d been one of those types of students. He knew how it was.

So Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton having swapped bodies wasn’t altogether a big surprise to Jim. And it _was _a swap, not a Polyjuice potion, he was relatively sure - even _before _the kids _and _the teachers had denied using one.

Of course, someone could have slipped them one, but Leonard had run a test and shook his head. Which meant it was something else and _that _was concerning. Because it hadn’t just hit the students – which Jim had expected – it had also hit _teachers_, who should have known better.

And not just any teacher.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Seriously, shouldn’t Dean have been able to ward against something like this? So, what was it that could have slipped past Dean’s defenses _and _affected both student and teacher alike?

“I think the best thing to do right now is gather more evidence. Specifically, we need to find out how many other students or teachers have been affected by this or if it’s confined to the four of you,” Leonard said, exasperation tinging his voice. “Once we have _that,_ we should be able to narrow things down a little easier.”

“It affected the four of us the same night, so it might be best to just retrace our steps to see if we did anything similar throughout the day,” Cas pointed out.

Dean nodded. “That’s a very good idea. Why don’t the four of us do that right now while Doctor McCoy looks up the various causes of body swapping. Professor Kirk, Sam, it’s almost time for the dorms to start waking up – maybe grab a few more teachers to go house by house before the breakfast run? Have them come by here first, go over the plan. We’ll adjust as necessary, proceed, and then we all meet back here to compare notes.”

Jim nodded. That seemed like a sound plan. It would at least give people something to do rather than just sitting around, and that was always a good thing to keep panic at bay. Jim nodded at Sam as they jogged away from the medical wing, pausing as they hit the first junction. “Hey, we still need to wake up McGonagall. I can do it, if you want,” Jim offered.

Sam nodded, pushing his hair back. “All right, I’ll start with the heads of houses – meet back in the med wing?”

“Got it.” Jim wasted no time in heading for the headmasters’ tower. He barely made it halfway there before he was joined by McGonagall herself.

“Ah, headmistress, I was just coming to get you –“ Jim said.

“Yes, I know. The paintings already informed me.” She fell into step beside him as he turned on his heel and they briskly walked back towards the med wing.

“Right, the paintings. Of course.” Jim felt like an idiot for forgetting that.

McGonagall spared him a slight smile. “Don’t worry about it, Professor Kirk. It’s not a method much employed elsewhere. It _does _take some getting used to.”

Jim and McGonagall were the first ones to return, but the heads of house weren’t far behind. Fairly quickly, McGonagall had taken charge, approving of the plan and adding her own addendums.

“Take roll call, but don’t let on what’s happening just yet. We don’t want to scare the younger students and we don’t want the older ones to take advantage.” She smiled wryly. “We’ve had a few over the years who would have done just that, so I’ve learned _not_ to take chances.”

The name Weasley was mentioned more than once by a few of the long-standing teachers - some with a chuckle, others with a groan and an eyeroll. But nobody objected to the plan and they quickly paired off. Jim accompanied the Ravenclaw head, waking up the prefects first and getting everyone gathered in the Ravenclaw common room.

There were plenty of yawning mouths and sleepy faces, but one or two seemed a little more alert.

Unfortunately.

Tony Stark raised his hand as they went through the list.

“Hey, why’d you skip Barnes?” Tony demanded when he was asked to wait. “Where is he? Did something happen to him? What’s going on?”

“If you will all just be a little more patient, we’ll explain everything. We just want to make sure we have as many of you as possible first. Don’t want to have to repeat everything again. Now please,” Flitwick, the Ravenclaw Head of House, said, “Save the rest of the questions till we’re ready.”

Jim liked Flitwick. The Charms teacher was better than the _other _Charms teacher, in his opinion. The other one liked to conspire with Peeves a little too often for Jim’s liking and seemed to want to challenge the status of a couple of graduated students for most memorable trickster. The Weasley twins. Right.

Tony wasn’t appeased in the slightest but he closed his mouth and glared, crossing his arms across his chest. Jim was just grateful he remained silent while they finished role call.

As soon as they _were_, Tony called out, “Okay, spill. What the hell is going on?”

Emboldened by Tony, the rest of the students started clamoring for answers and Jim raised his hands, turned them face down and pushed downwards.

“Hey, take it easy. We told you we’d explain everything and we will,” Jim soothed. “Nobody’s hurt, nobody’s missing or in danger, but there’s been a bit of a body mix-up so we’re just making sure we know who’s been affected.”

“What do you mean by ‘body mix up?’” Tony asked, eyes narrowing.

“A couple of folks woke up in the wrong bodies this morning. Nothing to worry about. We’ve got some of the smartest people in the wizarding world teaching here and they’re right on top of it, all right?” Jim explained carefully.

The kids started speaking all at once again, but thankfully no one seemed frightened. Magical accidents like this were, all in all, fairly mundane.

“We’d like everyone to stay here in the dorm until the first meal, and then stick together when you go down to breakfast. No side trips,” Flitwick admonished. “After each meal, you can either stay there with some of the teachers to hang out with each other or come back here until we say otherwise.”

“What about classes?” That was a first year called Peter, Jim noted.

“Postponed for the day,” Professor Flitwick said.

“What about tomorrow?” A girl named Julie, one of his best flying students as a matter of fact, asked.

“That depends on what we find out today,” Jim said. “Now, everyone, please listen to your prefects and your Head of House – we’ll keep them updated.”

Jim turned to leave, but as he stepped out of the door, a hand snagged his robe. He turned, unsurprised to find Tony there.

“Yes, Stark?” Jim asked, inclining his eyebrow up.

“You still haven’t explained what happened to Bucky,” Tony said.

“You heard what I said. Do I really need to be more specific??”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Jim’s eyebrow went higher. Tony crossed his arms over his chest again, his face turning more mulish.

“If Bucky’s switched bodies with someone, then _they’re_ not prepared for the arm, and my family knows limb integration backwards and forwards. I can help,” Tony pointed out. “If this lasts longer than a few hours, whoever’s in there is gonna need to know.”

“Fine. Come with me,” Jim said. Before they left, Jim caught Flitwick’s eye and nodded down to Tony. Flitwick waved his acknowledgement before he was surrounded by students and was lost to Jim’s sight.

“So who did he switch with? Did it affect anybody else?” Tony asked, his words tripping over each other as he kept up with Jim.

“Barton. And we’re still figuring that out. Last I knew, only four people were affected,” Jim said, rounding a corner. They barreled right through one of the castle ghosts and Jim shuddered. He tossed back a “Sorry!” but kept on going.

Tony slowed for a second, then shook his head and sped back up. “Oh yeah? Who?’

“Professors Castiel and Dean.”

“Huh,” Tony said way too thoughtfully as they neared the medical wing.

Jim stopped. His eyes narrowed as he turned to Tony. “Huh, what?”

“Oh, I just think it’s interesting. Y’know, a lot of the students think Professors Dean and Cas have a thing for each other.’

“Is that right?” Jim said, biting his tongue. He turned and resumed walking. “Anybody else you kids gossip about?”

“Hmm… well, we gossip about everything,” Tony said. “And the topic of the day is always changing. I think last week, the gossip fodder was about the Charm Hagrid got wrong in Professor Gabriel’s class and how we’re not so sure it _wasn’t _supposed to do that. Last night, it was about dessert – Thor was certain we were going to have some delicacy from his homeland. But I think the obvious feelings between a couple of the teachers _does_ pop up once in a while.”

“Oh? Like who? Just Dean and Cas or anyone else?” Jim tried to act casual. He was an adult, dammit. He could do that and fool a kid.

Sure, Tony was a goddamn genius – all Starks seemed to be – but he was _still _a kid.

They reached the door of the medical wing and Tony stepped in front of him, grinning his damn ass off. “Don’t worry, Professor, I won’t tell the doc a thing…” Tony pushed the door open, winked at Jim and walked inside.

Jim stared after Tony for a moment. Were they _that _obvious to the kids? Well, Dean and Cas, sure. There was no subtlety there. But _Jim?_

And did that mean… did Leonard have…

His chest tight with hope, Jim followed Tony into the medical wing.


	14. Chapter 13 - (Dean) Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being against the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher means he should know what happened and how to fix it... but Dean needs some sort of clue, first.

Dean just couldn’t figure it out.

Out of the whole goddamned school, just him, Cas and two students had been affected, but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint any common points of their day. Barnes hadn’t had any classes with Dean that day, and Barton hadn’t had any with Cas. And the four of them had most definitely not crossed paths all at the same time.

So, what could they have all come across that nobody else in the school did? The grand hall was definitely ruled out. So were the dormitories and the teacher’s quarters.

As Dean paced back and forth, Tony was showing Clint how to activate and use Bucky’s arm while Bucky hovered, offering his own perspective and advice, Thor watching avidly and Lucky dozing at their feet.

Dammit, Dean was distracting himself. He needed to focus. He needed to… goddamn the itch in his shoulders was _unbearable_. How did Cas _live _like this? He scanned the room, looking for something to – there. He shifted subtly, changing the path of his pacing a little bit at a time till he could reach the stone window casement, brace his back on it and move it side to side, just trying to… reach that… fucking… itch…

“Dean? Are you all right?” Cas asked, appearing before Dean so suddenly that Dean yelped and jerked away from the wall.

Blushing, he righted himself. “Sorry, Cas. I just can’t _think _with the…” he gestured over his shoulder, grimaced and reached, trying to scratch the itch.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas said, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. You can’t… scratching won’t make a difference.”

“Is it like this _all the time?”_

“Near enough,” Cas admitted.

“How do you stand it?” Dean reached over his shoulder again even though he _knew _it wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t _help _it.

“I find a private place to let loose and fly. Barring that, I let them out when I can guarantee I’m alone. And if I can’t do either of those, I just deal with it. I’ve had my whole life to get used to it,” Cas said.

A commotion at the door had both of them turning to see – of course, the rest of the usual suspects, looking for their friends. A very concerned Steve, Natasha and Sam had already pushed their way inside, despite protests.

“You’re supposed to stay in the Grand Hall or your dorms, not go wandering off, willy nilly,” Doctor McCoy said.

“We didn’t,” Natasha said coolly, lifting her chin up. “We came here, looking for our missing friends. _And _we had an escort.”

The flying instructor was standing behind the three students with a sheepish but unapologetic expression on his face. “Sorry, Bones, but since you and Dean have already ruled out the idea of it being contagious, I couldn’t see the harm in letting them set their minds at ease. And only seeing their friends was going to do that.”

The doctor muttered and rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop the kids from running over to the other four. Dean turned away, not wanting to intrude on their conversation, but he was pretty proud of the interhouse friendship that was going on here, that he’d been getting to watch form right under his very eyes.

It was exactly what Ms. Granger had been going for.

Absently, he reached over his shoulder again and Cas sighed, pulling Dean’s hand away. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t scratch my skin raw and bloody. It’ll make things… difficult for me, next time I have a moment alone.”

A moment – oh! For the next time Cas let his wings out and free. Dean grimaced.

“Sorry, I’ll try.”

“Professor Dean?” Dean turned to find the red head from Slytherin, Natasha, standing at his side, a skinny rat draped around her neck and poking out of her hair.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Please don’t be mad at Clint and Bucky. It was my fault.”

Dean and Cas looked at each other and back to Natasha. Dean blinked and kept his voice calm and soft, encouraging. “What was your fault, Ms. Romanoff?”

She looked away, bit her lip, then squared her shoulders. Taking a breath, she said, “Yesterday, after dinner, the three of us were in your classroom and… I knocked over a shelf. Bucky and Clint cleaned up for me.”

“I’m sure accidents happen, and I appreciate you owning up to it. And of course, I could hardly be mad at your friends for helping you,” Dean said, watching her shoulders sag in relief. “It was actually very good of them. But what were you doing in my classroom when classes were done for the day?”

She reached up and pulled the skinny rat down. “Mats had gone in there, so I went after her.”

“Oh, Ms. Romanoff, you got your ferret!” Cas beamed at her. “How do you like her?”

“Is that what that is?” Dean asked. “No, wait, that’s not important here. So you three were in my classroom yesterday. But only Clint and Bucky got hit with the body swap. Did they touch something you didn’t?”

“Well, they cleaned up the mess from the bookcase,” Natasha pointed out. “I was too busy trying to catch Mats. She’s a lot faster than I anticipated and she can get into a lot of things really easy. I was afraid she’d get hurt.”

Dean patted Natasha on the shoulder, being sure to avoid the… ferret… rat… thing. “Thank you for telling us, and I’m not angry in the slightest.”

Looking relieved, Natasha nodded and returned to her friends. Dean stared after them, speaking slowly, pitching his voice low enough not to be heard, “Cas… we were in the classroom earlier in the day, unboxing that shipment I had.”

Beside him, Castiel stilled. “Indeed. So it appears we _do_ have a commonality after all. But didn’t we ask the boys what their every step had been yesterday? They didn’t mention this. Why is that?”

Dean chuckled and looked at Cas. “Loyalty to their friend. By admitting to being there, they’d be throwing Natasha to the wolves, since they’d then have to explain _why_ they’d been there. I think I know what happened.”

Walking over to the group, Dean dragged a chair over to set between the two beds they kids had gathered on. He sat in it and looked over at Clint and Bucky. “So, you were in my classroom yesterday, I hear.”

Bucky’s face, with Clint at the helm, paled, terror filling in his eyes. he hunched back and Bucky – in Clint’s body – moved to wrap an arm over the other’s shoulders, pull him in to comfort.

“No, I’m not mad at you boys. I’m not even mad at you for lying about it. I get why. But now that I know, you _need _to tell me what you touched. Which bookcase did you knock over?”

“The uh, the one with that creepy double mask,” Bucky said in Clint’s voice.

Dean groaned and wiped a hand over his face. “That fucking mask.”

He should have known.

It was the only unidentified item he’d received, the only one he hadn’t expected. He’d already sent an owl out to the supplier, and he’d _meant _to go back after dinner to run some tests on it, but he’d gotten embroiled in a conversation about the best way to identify likely Wendigo haunts with Professor Spock who – while not an expert in magical creatures like Cas (and now that he knew what Cas was, it actually made a sort of sense why Cas focused in that area), or an expert on the dark arts and the defense thereof, but the man was highly read and intelligent.

“All right, I think I know what happened, or at least, I’m fairly sure we know the culprit. I’ll go talk to the headmistress about relaxing the restrictions but I’d like to put my classroom as off limits for the time being.” He looked at Bucky and Clint. “It shouldn’t be any more of a problem, but it _might _be easier if the two of you stay here until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asked.

“I mean, how permanent this change is.”

“It could be _permanent?” _Clint stared at Dean in horror. Bucky’s face shuttered down and he drew away from Clint. Clint, Dean thought, didn’t notice, as he spun about at the same time. “Oh my god, Bucky! I’m so sorry! I handed you that stupid mask – this is my fault and now you’re stuck with…” his hands flapped vaguely at Bucky and his mouth snapped shut, eyes wide.

He’d been about to say something, Dean realized. Something he didn’t want anybody else to know, but Bucky got it. Whatever Clint had meant, Bucky’s face relaxed and he leaned forward, whispering something into Clint’s ear. Clint looked relieved, slumping into Bucky’s arm. The usual guarded tightness that Dean was used to seeing in Clint’s posture was gone and he marveled at it.

He hadn’t thought he’d _ever _see Clint look so… well, not relaxed or happy, per se, not under the current conditions, but… he was more open than Dean had ever known him to be.

Sure, it hadn’t been all that long since school had started, but most other students had gotten over the new school, new people jitters and settled in long since already. Clint hadn’t. Except, maybe he had… just a little bit, if you saw him with the right people.

This was good, and Dean had to hold back the smile. He didn’t want them to feel self-conscious about anything.

When Bucky straightened up again, he said, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. I just hope it’s not permanent cause, I actually wanna kiss you real bad, and it’d be weird kissin’ myself.”

Clint gaped at Bucky.

Bucky swallowed nervously, but his eyes were determined. “S’long as you’re okay with it, of course,” Bucky said, his voice cracking a little.

“Me?” Clint’s voice squeaked. “Why would you want to kiss _me?”_

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bucky asked, his voice ringing a little clearer. The two of them seemed to have forgotten the multiple teachers and all their friends ranged about the room. Steve was punching Sam’s shoulder and biting his lip, a grin on his face as he bounced on the bed, trying not to make a sound. Sam was rolling his eyes and taking it good-naturedly. Tony was staring wistfully from Bucky and Clint, over to Steve. Thor was beaming.

Natasha was… she was staring at them with a sad smile. Dean frowned. Wasn’t she happy for her friends?

“Because… because… I’m _me,” _Clint said, disbelief and hurt coloring his voice. “There’s no way… you can’t be… this has to be a joke!” He choked on the last words, sounding more than a little watery as he sprung up from the bed and shoved backwards, away from Bucky, away from the group. “There’s no way you mean that…”

On a gasp, Clint ran from the room. Bucky stood frozen, hand reaching out for someone who was no longer there, while the rest of their friends were sitting in a stunned silence. Natasha didn’t look surprised and that was it, Dean supposed. That was the reason behind the sadness in her smile.

Aaaaand fuck. Clint was gone. Crap.

“Of course he’s run off, right after I said to stay here,” Dean muttered under his breath as he jumped up and ran after Clint.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, when everything had been looking so promising, and Dean just hoped he was qualified to fix it.

He had a feeling he was not.


	15. Chapter 14 - (Bucky) Left Reeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's left reeling in the wake of Clint's rejection and departure, and his friends just want to help - but who's helping Clint, who was obviously distressed?

Bucky stared after Clint, watched his own body running away from him, heard his own voice choking down tears.

What the hell had just happened?

Hours ago, back in the hall, before they’d been interrupted by the doctor, Bucky had been _sure_ Clint was planning to kiss him or confess feelings or… _something_. It had given Bucky the courage to make his own move, confess his _own_ feelings.

He’d thought… he’d thought maybe they understood each other. That they’d been on the same page.

Had he been wrong?

The bed shifted and suddenly Steve was sitting next to him. he was saying – saying _something_ – but Bucky stared at Steve’s moving mouth and understood none of it. There was noise a plenty. Everyone around him seemed to be talking at the same time, but Bucky _caught none of it_. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was in shock, or if it was because of Clint’s ears.

Hell, could be both.

Steve snapped his fingers in front of Bucky’s face, his eyes worried as he stared at Bucky. His mouth moved again and Bucky shook his head. “I can’t… it’s too loud. I can’t hear ya real well, Stevie,” Bucky said.

Even with how Clint had run off, had rejected him – that’s what had happened, right? Bucky wasn’t too clear – he didn’t want to spill Clint’s secret.

He hadn’t told _anyone _about his ears. It may have been inevitable, with the body swap, but at least with Bucky’s arm, the trade off was… almost equal, less… embarrassing? Or whatever the reason Clint had been hiding this from them for.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Bucky wasn’t going to betray Clint’s confidence, no matter what, not if he could help it. He just wasn’t sure if he _could _keep it. He hadn’t learned how to compensate for the loss the way Clint obviously had.

“Bucky?” Steve’s mouth formed the familiar word, his name, and though Bucky couldn’t quite pick it out through the cacophony – were his friends _always _this noisy? How had he never_ noticed _that before? – he could recognize the shape of it, and it helped bring it a little more into focus.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “I don’t know what wrong and I don’t want to talk about it. Whatever happened… I’m sure Clint has his reasons and maybe he just, he just needs time. Maybe now, when we were dealing with, with _this_ -” he gestured at himself, at Clint’s body that he was wearing, the too long limbs and the too short hair – “was the wrong time.”

Steve looked at him sadly, then looked away sharply. The noise around them quieted and Bucky could understand what was being said once more.

“All right, that’s enough. I don’t plan on entertaining a circus in here. One person can stay with Barnes – if he wants them to – the rest of you, get out of here and do whatever it is you hooligans do when you’re not in class,” Doctor McCoy said.

There was no question that if he had to pick, Bucky would pick Steve, or that if he insisted nobody had to stay – even Steve – Steve would get upset, so he cleared his throat.

“Steve can stay,” he said. He looked at the others. “I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling… maybe later?”

“Of course,” Thor said, his voice rumbling more than any teens voice had a right to, Bucky had always thought. He patted Bucky on the shoulder. “If I can be of any more assistance, please let me know.”

Bucky nodded as one by one, they all left except Steve. Sam just gave him a silent nod of support, his usual snark tabled for now. Tony looked longingly at Steve before hefting a sigh and following the others out, turning to walk backwards as he reached the door.

“You know where to find me if you need me, big guy,” Tony noted, before disappearing from sight.

Natasha was the last to leave, and she hesitated by Bucky as she did. “Bucky, I don’t think he understands how you feel. I’m not sure he’s _ready_ to. I’ve seen kids who act the way he does and, there’s a reason for it and it’s never pretty. None of us know what he’s gone through, but whatever it is, his ability to believe in himself or trust in others – well, you’ve seen it yourself. Take heart and give him time.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Bucky said. “I just… I need a few minutes to… to get over it? Over him? Myself? I don’t even know. I just… I do.”

“I get it,” she said. She placed a kiss on his forehead, patted his cheek and walked away, leaving Bucky alone with Steve, the doctor and Professor Cas.

Steve stared after her. “I’m glad somebody gets it, cause I’m really confused about everything, Buck,” Steve said after a moments silence. “But I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“I know, Stevie. Mostly, I’m just… tired, I think,” Bucky said with a sigh that turned into a yawn. “Drained.”

“Oh, well, why don’t I let you get some sleep – oh! Except, are you hungry? You didn’t go down to breakfast. You must be starving. I could get you something to eat before you take a nap?” Steve said, his eyes lighting up at the idea, at the notion that he could help with something. Bucky had seen that look before. They’d mother henned each other right through childhood, almost from the minute they’d met, though it was usually Bucky mother henning Steve and not the other way around.

It was rare enough that Bucky knew Steve relished the few chances he got to return the favor, so he nodded his head.

“Yeah, some food sounds great, Stevie,” Bucky said.

Steve leapt up. “Okay! Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back!”

He darted from the room, fast enough to make Bucky afraid Steve would have issues with his breathing, and finally Bucky slumped into the bed, letting himself fall back into the pillow with a groan. He rubbed his hand over his face, the unfamiliar touch of two flesh hands instead of one flesh and one metal, over features he’d never touched before, stubble that wasn’t quite rough, but wasn’t soft either.

This was a whole mess, wasn’t it?

At his feet, Lucky whined and Bucky looked down, startled. Why was lucky – of course. To the dogs’ nose and eyes, Bucky was _Clint_. And one thing Bucky had noticed was how much better Clint felt whenever the dog was around. The poor dog must be so confused why Bucky wasn’t acting like Clint.

Maybe Bucky _should _go after him – not to bother him, when he so obviously desired to be alone, but to bring him Lucky? It might make him feel better, actually.

That decided, Bucky stood, grabbing a hold of Lucky and clucking his tongue. “C’mon, Lucky, let’s go find Clint so you can cheer him up, okay buddy?”

Lucky bounded to his feet with a yip as Bucky headed for the door. It was insane how quickly and deeply Clint and the dog had bonded, but it was good. Clint and Lucky both needed someone to love them unconditionally.

Doctor McCoy didn’t stop Bucky from leaving, though he did eye him as he left with his perpetual grumpy air. He breathed a sigh of relief, then promptly tripped on his friends, who were all sitting outside the medical wing on his way out.

“What are you all still doing here?” Bucky demanded, picking himself back up.

“Just staying in range if you need us,” Tony said. “Where do you think _you’re _going?”

“Nowhere, just, thought I’d bring Clint his dog,” Bucky said. “Poor dog doesn’t know I’m me and not him and it’ll make Clint feel better, I’m thinkin’.”

“Sound reasoning,” Thor said. “Than that is our new quest!”

“Wait, what? No, I don’t think we all need to – “

“Great!” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “That’s settled. We’ll just wait for Steve to come back first.”

“This isn’t necess – “

“If you leave without Steve,” Natasha said, “I think he’ll be very sad when he returns and you’re gone, since he went to get _you _food.”

“Good point,” Bucky sighed. Nat was absolutely right. Clint was important, but he couldn’t do that to Steve. But the wait for Steve to return was _agonizing._

Finally, though, Steve returned, his arms laden down with way too much food, Sam trailing along behind him with an eye roll for Bucky’s benefit. Bucky almost snorted at Steve’s startled look.

“Buck, you okay?”

“Yeah, pal, I’m just fine. Waiting for you so we can return Clint his dog. Apparently, I’m not allowed to go off on my own,” he said wryly.

“Well,” Steve said slowly, a sly grin lighting up his face. “You ain’t exactly yourself, right now.”

Bucky glared at him as their friends collapsed in a mixture of laughter and groans. “I hate you so much, Rogers.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve said brightly, pushing the food – a large loaf of warm, soft bread, 3 apples, several slices of mouthwatering ham and a couple of hardboiled eggs - at Bucky. “So any idea where we’re heading?”

Bucky stashed the eggs and the apples directly into his pockets – and hoped he wouldn’t wind up with broken eggshells in them later – tucked the loaf under his arm and started on the ham even as he jogged down the stairs – then tripped.

Dammit, Clint’s legs were longer than his.

Thor caught Bucky before he could faceplant or roll down the rest of the stairs.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said.

“Maybe not so much eating and walking at the same time,” Tony said.

“Whatever,” Bucky muttered. Taking it a little easier, a little more carefully as he got used to Clint’s ganglier limbs, Bucky headed for the first place he could think of to check for Clint – the Quidditch pitch.

Clint seemed to like it because he could get up someplace high and it was often deserted unless there was a team out there practicing which was definitely _not _happening right now. He led the group out to the field and was grateful for Lucky’s sake that the access was a set of stairs, not a ladder.

When Bucky reached the top of the stairs, however, he nearly ran face first into professor Dean – no, wait, that was Professor Cas in Dean’s body, just like it was Bucky in Clint’s body - who quickly turned and tried to wave them back. Bucky stared at Cas mutinously – and then he caught the sounds of Clint and someone else talking.

As their words floated down the stands, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he could see echoes of horror and disbelief and sad understanding on the faces of his friends. Despite the issues he’d been having with hearing since switching with Clint, their words were (mostly) clear thanks to everyone else’s pin drop silence.

They probably shouldn’t be listening to this – it was absolutely an invasion of privacy - but Bucky couldn’t seem to make his feet move.

And he didn’t appear to be the only one experiencing this problem.

He just hoped Clint wouldn’t be mad at them when they were inevitably discovered eavesdropping.


	16. Chapter 15 - (Dean) Pep Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to Bucky' belief, someone had gone after Clint , someone who might have a little bit of insight to how Clint could be feeling.

Clint was a _fast _little fucker.

Er. Um, Dean probably shouldn’t be using that sort of language to think of his students.

Ah fuck. Still, point stood. Clint made it out of the medical wing and down to the main hall before Dean could really catch up with him. The kid went out through the main door, heading out across the expansive lawn towards the Quidditch stands. He’d settled in on the top most riser by the time Dean caught up with him.

Dean settled on the riser besides Clint. “Hey kid, what’s wrong? You lit outta there like you found out Peeves and Gabriel were teaming up together for a prank. I thought you liked Bucky?”

“I do but…” Clint heaved a heavy sigh that sounded way too world weary for a kid. Dean could feel that in his bones. “It’ll never work out.”

“You haven’t even tried. How do you know?”

“I don’t have to,” Clint snapped. “I’m a disappointment. Eventually he’ll see that, they all will. I’m _always_ a disappointment.”

God, it hurt to hear that. Resonated a little too close to home. Those sounded like words Clint had learned because someone had tossed them his way – more than once.

Dean knew how that was. “Tell me about it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” God, save Dean from sulky teens. At least it sounded like Clint had a reason for his behavior, Dean just hoped he could actually help.

“Try me.”

Clint snorted. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean thought he saw movement, his head darting up to catch Cas’s eyes (Dean’s own eyes. He jolted, having somehow forgotten he was in Cas’s body and Cas was in his, even though he had the proof of body swaps sitting beside him, Clint in Bucky’s body) and shake his head minutely.

Cas nodded, backing off, out of sight, but not gone. Clint didn’t notice.

“Fine. If I wasn’t a disappointment, why does dad beat me all the time? So bad, he beat the hearing right outta me?” Clint said, fists clenched, glaring at Dean as if challenging him to deny what had to be the truth.

Dean throttled down his impulse to speak. He needed to know what was going on. Clint needed to get this out. He had a feeling Clint had never told anyone.

“We’re so poor, he could only scrounge enough to send one of us to magic school and that wasn’t me, cause I was too dumb. When the time came for me to start, Dad said no, and Barney tried to teach me on the sly, but then I was so dumb that I couldn’t pick up _anything_. Even Barney started to see how stupid I was. Started treating me different.”

Clint took a shuddering breath. “And they’re right, right? Cause I’m 15 and I shoulda started 4 years ago. I’m learning the _baby_ shit… I’m so far behind everyone else it isn’t funny and even with the magic ears that recruiter guy gave me, I still have trouble hearing things – only now it’s different. Like, there’s too much of it and I can’t figure out what’s what. Cause I’m _dumb_ and they’re all gonna figure that out and leave me behind. And I can’t…” Clint scrubbed at his eyes and choked on a sob. “I can’t… I can’t get my hopes up like that.”

“So y’see? You wouldn’t understand.” Clint looked at Dean defiantly again, but Dean could see the hurt and the hope warring in his eyes. Clint _wanted _someone to tell him he was wrong, that his father and Barney – his brother? – was wrong, that Clint wasn’t dumb and he wouldn’t lose his friends or Bucky like that. But he was afraid.

It was Dean’s turn to snort. Clint recoiled, almost a flinch, actually, like now that he’d laid everything out there, talked back to a teacher – an _adult – _he was preparing himself for the worst.

His dad had beaten him. Jesus.

“You heard of the Winchesters, right?” he asked. Clint nodded cautiously, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “We’re pretty famous, I guess. Mom and Dad were Aurors and everyone’s always praising them, cause they were the best of the best.”

More movement out of the corner of his eye and Dean knew suddenly that his audience of one had grown and he wondered exactly how long Clint’s friends had been there, listening, how much they’d heard.

“And you’d think that was all great and shit, knowing people think highly of your parents, but it actually hurts.” Dean paused, considering the fact that what he was about to say wasn’t all public knowledge, and that he was not just spilling it to Clint, who needed to hear it, but to Cas and a bunch of the other kids too.

“See, mom and dad were the best in all the U.S. but they stopped to raise a family. Except it’s hard to step back when you’ve made enemies and there was this wizard they’d crossed who’d vowed to get revenge, a shifty bastard named Azazel, and he came after us. Mom died when I was just a kid, my brother was a baby aaaannd we were suddenly homeless.”

“Dad… went a little crazy. He started up doing the Auror thing again, but not through official channels. He found his own cases and dragged us along, all while trying to hunt down this rogue wizard. So, it fell to me to watch over Sammy and we barely ever managed to go to a muggle school – and when we did, it was usually for cover. We _certainly _never went to a wizard school. Not once. Hogwarts is the first I’ve ever stepped inside. Dad taught us as he went. And you’d think that was great. One on one lessons, learning from one of the best, right?”

Dean paused, and Clint was watching him with wide eyes and he nodded slowly, waiting for the trap.

“But see, Sammy and I, we got our blind spots because dad had his own strengths and weaknesses. We didn’t get the benefit of learning from various experts in their own fields, we didn’t get an equal education. So, one on one, not always the best. Sam and I, sure, we’re teachers, but we’ve been using the time here to bone up on the things we never learned. Does that make us dumb?”

Dean waited and Clint shook his head. “Of course not, you never had the opportunity –“

“Yeah, kid, and neither did you. So you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” Dean said. Clint stared at him open mouthed, blinking.

“I… never thought of it like that,” Clint said.

“Sometimes, you just need another person’s perspective,” Dean said with a shrug. But that was only part of the battle. Clint needed to know that what his dad did wasn’t okay, and that he wasn’t the only one who’d suffered like that.

“As for your dad…” Dean frowned, “You know that isn’t right, right?”

“But, I disappointed him – “

“Yeah, and I disappointed my dad too. He depended on us to help him out long before most other kids learned their first spell. When I was still a kid, I was made responsible for my brother. Not the ‘go play in the yard and don’t let him fall out of a tree’ variety, but the ‘make sure he’s dressed, fed and doesn’t get eaten by the thing we’re hunting’ variety. And how is that fair? And if I messed up? Yeah, kid, I got beat more than my fair share too.”

Cas twitched on the edge of Dean’s vision; he couldn’t see the reactions of the kids behind Cas, or even which kids were there; Dean didn’t want to take his attention off of Clint, who was staring at him in rapt horror.

“Look, Clint, our situations are different, I’ll grant you that, but other people’s shitty choices, other people’s shitty actions, they don’t define who _we _choose to be. And you’re not a disappointment, you got that? You came in here with almost nothing, knowledge wise, and we’re already looking for ways to advance you, cause you’ve learned so quickly. So you’re not dumb, or whatever your dad drilled into your head, and if he’s wrong about that,” Dean said emphatically, “Then think about all the other shit he’s wrong about. Think about it, and toss it out the window.”

“It can’t be that easy,” Clint protested softly, his voice a hopeful whisper.

“Nah, won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy, but it’s easier when you let people in, let them help you. I started this year feeling like a fraud as a teacher, but I had Sam to remind me that I’m not.”

Dean shifted to face Clint head on and leaned forward. “Don’t you think your friends might do the same for you?”

Clint twisted his hands together, then yelped when the metal one twisted too hard and he pulled away his right hand and shook it out. He looked a little surprised to be reminded in the midst of his misery that he wasn’t in his own body anymore.

“You really think so?”

Before Dean could open his mouth, there was a clatter of feet and the clamor of voices, and from behind Cas, all of Clint’s friends came tumbling out – Bucky at the head of the pack with Lucky at his feet, followed by Steve, Natasha, Tony, Thor and Sam.

Cas followed along, looking at Dean proudly.

Various choruses of ‘_of course we’d help’_ echoed from around Clint who was quickly looking somewhat overwhelmed.

Dean quietly stood and backed away, going to lean up against the back of the stands with Cas but leaving the kids in their sight.

“You’re not a fraud,” Cas said. “And you’re good with them.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said. “Though, you might wanna hold off on the fraud part. It’s kinda my fault the four of us are in this situation.”

“No ones perfect, and that package came from a trusted source, right?” Cas said.

Dean nodded.

“Then there you go. It doesn’t seem to be hurting anyone, it’s just… uncomfortable, and when it comes to magical accidents, that’s fairly minor,” Cas said.

Dean snorted. “Right, cause that’s the seller right there. ‘Come to Hogwarts! Our magical accidents do _not _result in death or dismemberment’.”

“What was it you said to Clint?” Cas said. He tilted his head and stared at Dean solemnly. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dean let out a breath, looking away from Cas and staring at the kids. Clint was completely surrounded, a giant group hug that he seemed to both want to squirm away from and fall into. It would take time for him to adjust. It had only been a couple months since school had started, after all, and things didn’t just fix themselves in a flash, not even with magic.

Well, not most things, anyway.

Speaking of…

“Well, since we know what caused this issue, and nobody seems to be in any danger, I don’t think they actually need an escort. And I should probably set to researching that mask, figure out how to reverse this. Cause no offense Cas, but the itch is driving me insane.”

Cas chuckled and Dean smiled.


	17. Chapter 16 - (Clint) The Forbidden Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds the cure and things are looking up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Reverse Prompt Blog Challenge #5 - Lantern  
Art was by me / dragonpressgraphics

  


In the end, Clint, Bucky and their two professors – Dean and Cas – only had to stay switched for a couple of (very embarrassing) days. Professor Dean had been able to dig up the lore about the mask very easily and once he had that, well, figuring out how to reverse it had apparently been a piece of cake.

It was just the _doing _that proved to be somewhat more… complicated.

The four of them had to take a trip to a very specific location, outside of Hogwarts Castle and into the Forbidden Forest. Clint had to ask Natasha to keep an eye on Lucky – Clint had _heard _all about the sorts of dangers that lived there, and he’d _found _Lucky on the edge of the damn forest in the first place, all beat to hell – and there was no way he was risking Lucky just because the dog was so loyal it wanted to follow Clint everywhere.

That didn’t mean Clint was any happier about stepping inside the forest, but Bucky stayed at his side, their shoulders bumping together for reassurance.

Clint had _almost _gotten used to Bucky wearing his face but he’d be glad when they’re been returned to normal and he could gaze at _Bucky’s _face once more without needing a mirror.

It felt all sorts of creepy to be – technically – crushing on himself.

The forest was old, the trees were large and – if Clint weren’t so worried that something was going to _happen _to them – so peaceful as they followed their Professors through the forest. Hagrid, knowing the forest better than anyone, led the way.

Clint, who still couldn’t get used to how _good _he could hear and how easily he could tune things out – most of the time, anyway - couldn’t help but jump and bump into Bucky with every strange sound, no matter how small. Small or not, the forest seemed to amplify sounds amazingly well.

Clint swallowed, his heart pounding.

A hand crept into his and he looked down to see _his _hand, holding his (Bucky’s) hand. He was glad it wasn’t the other one, since Clint still hadn’t gotten used to it yet. It’s sense of touch was limited and he was very clumsy.

He couldn’t count the number of things he’d broken just trying to pick them up. He’d quickly learned it was best _not _to use the hand on anything important.

Like a wand.

That would have been disastrous.

Bucky brought him back out of his train of thought with a squeeze of his fingers and Clint’s heart started to pound for other reasons.

After the others had found him in the Quidditch stands, Bucky and Clint had had a private talk, with Steve standing guard to make sure nobody interrupted them. Bucky had left the ball in his court, telling Clint he understood better what made him push Bucky away, but also letting Clint know that he’d be there for Clint whenever Clint was finally ready to give it a try.

With some soul searching and the keeping of his teacher’s words in mind, Clint had decided to take the risk.

The smile that had overtaken Bucky’s face – filled with Clint’s features but somehow infused with Bucky’s quirks – had ben blindingly happy and so far, Clint wasn’t regretting a thing.

Walking through the Forbidden forest at night – _that_ he was regretting. But that Bucky was holding his hand as they walked, _that_ he would happily walk through the forest for.

“Here it is,” Hagrid suddenly announced. Clint tore his eyes away from Bucky and Bucky’s smile somehow sitting on Clint’s face to look straight ahead, past Hagrid.

The trees had thinned out here, were younger and smaller. Where he’d expected a clearing of some sort there was, instead, a tall lamppost nestled in among the trees. It glowed, little motes darting around it – they were alive, Clint realized – and Clint’s breath hitched a little.

Despite living in a castle _soaked _with magic, this little spot, this lamp… it somehow seemed more fantastical than anything he’d seen yet.

“The Inner Lantern,” Dean said.

“Also known as the will-o-wisp tree, on account as they turned this into their home. The lantern isn’t lit by any normal or magical means. It’s thousands of will-o-wisps dancing around inside it,” Hagrid explained.

“Aren’t Will-o-wisps _dangerous?” _Clint asked, his voice trying to be shrill. He fought it down. “Leading traveler’s astray?”

“That’s the muggle lore,” Hagrid said. “But they don’t lure people to their dooms. They show people the paths they need – whether or not that’s what they’re looking for.”

They walked closer to the lantern, the will-o-wisps growing more active with their approach.

“So what exactly does it _do?” _Bucky asked.

“On its own, nothing,” Dean said, ducking a branch here and there. Taking a bag off his shoulder, Dean pulled the dual mask out of it and balanced it against the glass of the lamp.

“Should you be touching that?” Clint asked nervously. This time, his voice _was _shrill, there was no arguing that. He stopped moving forward and Bucky bumped into him.

“We’ve already done the damage,” Dean said, stepping back to check the mask. He leaned forward and twitched it a little to the side and moved back again to check it’s positioning. “Hmm… I think that’ll do it.”

Everyone looked around at each other and waited as nothing happened. “Um… Professor?” Bucky asked, fingers squeezing tighter around Clint’s to reassure him. “Shouldn’t something be happening?”

“Not quite yet,” Dean said. He held up his hands and started ticking things off. “We’ve got all the ingredients – the lantern, Halloween night, will-o-wisps, the mask, all the affected people – we just need to wait for the moon to reach a certain point in the sky and then we can proceed.”

“Do we need to do anything?” Cas asked.

“Nope, just stand there looking pretty,” Dean said, staring over at Cas before ripping his eyes away to look up at the moon instead, his eyes going wide. Even in the glow of the will-o-wisps, his cheeks went red. Clint giggled and Bucky snorted while Hagrid beamed at the two professors. Even Cas was starting to blush.

Bucky and Clint looked at each other and smiled. Looked like they weren’t the only two crushing on each other.

In the end, the spell itself was rather anticlimactic. Clint almost missed when Professor Dean performed it – except that he was suddenly looking down at Bucky instead of up into his own face, the sounds of the forest dimmed, muted into the mish mash he’d already gotten used to hearing in the few months he’d had his magic ears. It was still gloriously better than nothing.

He blinked.

Bucky blinked back.

Then a shy smile spread across Bucky’s face. “How about it, doll?” he asked, leaning in a little.

Clint blushed and leaned in a little closer too, eyes wide and heart pounding. Was this it? Was this the moment they would kiss? Would this work out? Or would it crash and burn? But he wanted this… he would just have to do his best _not _to fuck it up.

They shifted closer, close enough their breath mingled, lips almost touching –

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, breaking the moment. “Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry, Cas. I’ll fix it, I swear.”

The suddenness of the outburst had Bucky and Clint springing away from each other with a shared, nervous laugh before turning to look at their professors and….

Their jaws dropped at the sight before them.

Hagrid looked absolutely entranced, eyes shining with wonder. Dean’s face wore an expression that Clint knew only too well, the one where he knew he’d fucked up real bad and people were gonna be pissed at him. And pissed off people usually threw punches, in his experience and, from what he’d learned, in Dean’s as well.

It hurt to look at.

He edged a little close to Bucky and Bucky slung his arm around Clint’s waist, pulling him in.

Cas, on the other hand, didn’t look pissed, merely resigned. He also had huge fucking wings sprouting from his back, his shirt – still tucked in – now fluttering down in shreds about his waist like a strange skirt.

“Whoa,” Clint breathed out in awe. Bucky just nodded as they watched Cas’s black feathered wings arc up and curl towards Dean. Cas pulled a face and they shifted back, pulling in close and tight.

“It’s all right, Dean. It wasn’t your fault. This is a risk I live with every day.” He looked around at the rest of them. “I hope I can count on your discretion _not _to tell people about this?”

Clint and Bucky nodded.

Hagrid just beamed. “O’ course, professor. Won’t tell a soul.” He winked. “Can I touch ‘em?”

“Please, I’d rather not,” Cas said, his wings pulling even tighter to his body. He looked very uncomfortable and Dean looked very distressed, pulling at his hair.

“God, I should have known this would happen – true form spells – Jesus, what was I thinking?”

Cas stepped closer to Dean, placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not mad,” he said. The wings on Cas’s back rustled and shifted, then spread open again, one wing moving to curl around Dean.

“Awwww,” Hagrid said, eyes going misty. He sniffed and rubbed his face with his sleeve, but his smile hadn’t dimmed any.

Dean paused in his tirade as the wing brushed him and he looked down at it and over at Cas. “What -?”

Cas blushed and pulled his wing back. “I’m sorry, Dean. It’s… instinct.” He drew out his wand, reached back and said something Clint couldn’t hear and in the space of an instant, the wings were gone and Clint was left to wonder if he’d been imagining it.

Clearing his throat, Dean said, “Let’s uh, let’s get back.”

Turning, Dean practically fled through the forest, Cas close behind. Bucky looked at Hagrid. “Shouldn’t you be leading the way?”

Hagrid smiled. “They’re going the right way so far. I can lead from back here. Give them some space to talk. Think they need it. C’mon, lads, let’s get going. Don’ wanna be left behind, now do we?”

Bucky tugged on Clint’s hand and the two of them followed Hagrid in Dean and Cas’s wake through the forest. Clint was certain from their body language that the two of them _were _talking, but he was glad enough that he couldn’t hear them. he didn’t want to intrude.

Still, he was curious.

“Why did Professor Cas say it was… instinct?” Clint asked Hagrid. Hagrid, he thought, might actually know since he’d previously been the Care of Magical Creatures teacher before Cas had taken over.

“Ah, it’s a bird thing, wrapping another in their wings. It can be done for a variety of reasons. Comfort, warmth, love.”

“Any of those things could have applied here. it’s not exactly the warmest night,” Bucky pointed out.

“Aye, yer right. But I ‘ave a feelin’ it’s more along the lines of everything else.” Hagrid beamed. “I think if either of you had wings, we’d be seeing the same thing.”

Clint blushed again. When the hell had he gotten so easily embarrassed? Though it wasn’t a bad embarrassed, not the kind that made his stomach churn in fear, but instead, made it flutter with hope.

Whatever was happening, no matter the upsets he’d had, Clint knew one thing for certain - Hogwarts was _definitely _the best thing that had happened to him.

Bucky smiled at him.

Best. Thing. Ever.


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are really beginning to look up for Clint - and maybe for a few others as well...

Somehow, it took Bucky and Clint an entire week before they finally had a moment to themselves that felt _right_. And at the first tentative kiss, Clint melted.

But that was okay, because so did Bucky.

They did a lot of kissing, cuddling and handholding after that. Bucky finally told Clint about his arm, Clint told him more about his home life. Both of them cried for the other and… it made things a little better, a little easier.

After talking with Dean, who took the time to actually listen and understand Clint’s reluctance to return to a home where he wasn’t truly wanted, Clint was approved for summer tutoring, with the caveat that he _had _to take a little break first.

Every single one of his new friends volunteered to host him over the summer. Clint almost cried when they did. But summer was still a long way off and while he suspected he’d be with Bucky, he didn’t have to decide right away.

Clint was so busy and so happy, that it was Christmas before he knew it. They all stayed through Christmas break, except for Thor and Loki, much to Thor’s dismay. For the first time in a _long _damn time, Clint woke to presents, and was glad he’d been able to wrangle up some of his own in return.

On Christmas afternoon, thanks to _way_ more mistletoe strung about the castle than absolutely necessary, Professors Dean and Cas finally kissed.

Okay, well, that one sprig of mistletoe might have actually been enchanted to ‘follow’ the two teachers throughout the castle. By accident. Maybe.

Clint and the others _might _have been a little invested in making sure the two teachers finally got together. So when the two teachers finally kissed, blushed and then kissed again, the students had broken into cheers.

They deserved it. After all the help Dean and Cas had been for them all, particularly for Clint, they deserved a little of the happy too.

Speaking of happy - a happier Clint surrounded by friends meant a Clint less likely to be prone to accidents requiring the medical wing, but he still wound up there at least a couple times a month. At which point he decided that Doctor McCoy and Professor Kirk were, perhaps, a little more stubborn than Dean and Cas.

Clint wasn’t sure how that was possible.

He cracked his knuckles and joined Bucky on the sofa of Ravenclaws common room. Spread around the common room were also Natasha, Sam, Steve and Tony. There were a few newcomers to their group that they’d gotten to know better over the break: another Ravenclaw called Bruce Banner, a Hufflepuff named Pepper Potts and Maria Hill, a Slytherin.

Clint had the feeling they’d be sticking around and marveled at the idea that he not only had friends, he had so many.

It was mindboggling.

He snuggled down into Bucky’s side and peered at the table in front of them. It was filled with half empty mugs and scattered crumbs, covered over with discarded parchments as they argued about the best plan of action to get Doctor McCoy and Professor Kirk to admit _their_ feelings for each other.

The fire on the other side of the table crackled merrily and Clint was warm and cozy besides Bucky. Lucky jumped up to curl over Clint’s feet and take over the rest of the couch. Alpine was dozing on the back of the couch above Lucky while Nat’s ferret was off doing whatever ferrets did.

The argument had reached a pitch and noise level that it had become _pure _noise for Clint and he didn’t even bother trying to follow the conversation anymore.

A few short months ago, that would have sent him into a panic, afraid that if they knew, his new friends would abandon him. But now Bucky just gave him a squeeze and a smile and a few haltingly signed words.

Because Bucky was just goddamned awesome like that.

Honestly, they all were, and Clint counted himself as the luckiest person alive, a drastic turn to how he’d thought not that long ago.

Friends and hope were wonderful things.

In the end, it took till almost the end of the school year and a rather more serious accident than normal for Professor Kirk and Doctor McCoy to get on the same page, McCoy’s usual bluster giving way to “Don’t you dare die on me before I can even kiss you goddammit!”

Kirk had grinned, a little shakily, and breathlessly asked “Promise?” before promptly passing out, but when he woke up, he’d most _definitely _remembered what had been said and held the doctor to it.

Took them long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats it, i'm done! *collapses* i don't know how i got all these characters to work together, and i'm so glad a few of you have decided to give it a try anyway! Now it's time to use my work printer to print off the story so i can tie it up in a bow for my daughter for xmas. Wish me luck that she like it folks! (and doesn't come back out 30 minutes later and say "Where's the rest?" which yes, she did one year lol)


End file.
